


The end

by innodle



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Also a Jigen and zenigata bromance? That happened for some reason, Angst, Corrupt Interpol, M/M, Pops joins the gang tm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, but he respects Pops and cares about him, criminal zenigata, hurt/ comfort, lupins a emotionally childish jackass, sad zenigata, the slowest burn that ever burnt lmao, things get gay(er)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2020-03-05 22:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 53,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18837655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innodle/pseuds/innodle
Summary: Lupin didn’t know what to do. Nor did he particularly know what to say. What could he possibly say? That it would be ok? That things would return to normal? That was a blatant lie.Pops had lost everything. His career and reputation were both in tatters. It was enough of a blow being fired from the police force, but being cast aside like a common criminal for something he didn’t do? That must have cut deep.Pops old life ends. A new one begins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise in advance for the three hundred grammatical errors that are probably in this fic.

“Alright: I got booze, bandages and cigarettes.” Jigen loudly announced, closing the front door with a nudge of his foot. With the excitement of a child, Lupin ran out of the bedroom and bounded over.

“I’ll take all three, thanks!” He jovially replied, yanking one of the brown paper bags out of his friends hold.

“Wha- dammit Lupin, you’re gonna make me drop everything!”

“Nonsense!”

Jigen grumbled as he placed the two remaining bags safely on the kitchen bench. When he looked over at Lupin, he rolled his eyes.

“Of course you pick that one.”

Embracing the bag of alcohol tighter, Lupin snickered and plucked a bottle of beer from the bag. Popping the cap off and taking a gulp, he placed the bag back with the others. 

“Aren’t you gonna get one for him?” Jigen drawled, nodding towards the living room. “Probably needs something to take the edge off.” 

Lupin’s face fell at the mentioning of Zenigata. Was it bad he didn’t want to face Pops? For most of the night, Lupin had been hiding away and planning how the gang would flee the country when this all blew over. It wasn’t something he’d need to consider for weeks, but any excuse to sneak away was a good one. 

“Hey! Don’t give me that look! It was _your_ idea to drag him back here.” Jigen huffed. “I thought you were fond of him? You go on about him being a worthy rival all the time. Damn well complain when he’s not chasin’ us - something I’ll never understand.” 

“I am! It’s just-”

Lupin felt sorry for Zenigata. He must have! Why else would he have gone to such lengths to save his life? But he was a thief, not a therapist. The only true experience Lupin had in others feelings was how to extort them. He shuddered at the idea of going back into that room. 

Lupin really didn’t want to deal with the mess of emotions that Zenigata inhabited right now. As each mask clattered to the floor revealing the new one underneath, Lupin felt growingly unequipped to deal with the fallout of this situation. 

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

He’d helped out Pops plenty of times in the past, and none ended like this. On those occasions he’d play the part, helping the man out where needed. Then after the day was saved, Lupin would quietly slip away, leaving Zenigata cursing and screaming into the night that he would catch him. It was similar to most of their departures, but this time the words were always tinted with fondness. That was Zenigatas way of saying thanks, Lupin knew.

In spite of his love of handcuffs and constant barking of orders, Pops was a softie underneath. _Too soft._ Lupin thought with a frown. It meant he could fall all that harder.

The wet, babbled crying that filled the small hideout once they’d brought the man home had been a testament to that. Lupin had heard it even with his door closed. But the silence that had stretched after Zenigata had worn himself out was even more ominous. Lupin suspected it wasn’t the end and he’d been correct.

When Zenigata had initiated a yelling match a few hours later by barging into his study and declaring that this was all Lupin’s fault, it had at the very least felt familiar. He hadn’t taken it personally; adrenaline and grief did that. Jigen was often the same, itching to argue after a heist if he was bottling something up. In any case the squabble had been swiftly ended by Goemon cutting Lupin’s desk clean in half, whilst giving a stare that insinuated they _were next if they didn’t shut up_.

When the sobbing made triumphant return, Lupin bailed, now hiding in the bedroom. Zenigata always had worn his heart on his sleeve and cried a little too hard, but this was something uglier. It was clear to anyone the man was one step away a breakdown. That was if he wasn’t there already. 

As if his old friend was reading his mind, Jigen slid out one of the brown bottles and forcefully placed it into his hand.

“At least do it for Goemon. Poor son of a bitch has been in there with him since I left.”

“Fine! Fine.” Lupin sighed. It couldn’t be put off, he supposed.

Wandering down the hall, Lupin reached the small room at the end. The curtains were drawn shut and only the light from the tv illuminated the room. He hesitated, leaning on the doorframe. He could see Goemon was sitting in the far corner, buffing the scratches and knicks out of his zantetsuken. The samurai was far more content than the last time he’d seen him. It seemed Lupin’s rescue wasn’t needed.

Zenigata meanwhile was on the couch, not doing much. He was dully looking at the tv. He had stopped crying - for now, anyway. But he was still clearly _grieving_.

Lupin didn’t know what to do. Nor did he particularly know what to say. What _could_ he possibly say? That it would be ok? THat things would return to normal? That was a blatant lie. He wouldn’t even try and patronise Pops like that; he respected the other far too much. 

Pops had lost everything. His career and reputation were both in tatters. It was enough of a blow being fired from the police force, but being cast aside like a common criminal for something he didn’t do? That must have cut deep. Lupin had no clue what Interpol thought of Pops now, or how much of the truth they really knew, but it must have been more than they were letting on.

He supposed it didn’t matter; either way there was still a warrant out for his arrest for the alleged murder of an Interpol chief, alongside the laughable warning that he was dangerous and not to be approached by the public.

Lupin knew the implications of this; even if Zenigata did continue to peruse Lupin, he’d be arrested the minute he walked outside. Police would no longer accept his help in any capacity. This wasn’t like when ol’ stubborn Pops had previous scuffles with authority, or had been temporarily dropped from the Lupin case in the past. The situation was far more grave.

Zenigata wasn’t a fool. He must have known this too. His men, ICPO police who had followed him through thick and thin, now begrudgingly kept their distance. Not that Pops would accept their help in any case; he was too damn good to let anyone else’s reputation be tarnished in this mess.

Like a good captain, Pops would go down with his ship alone.

He looked to the tv in the center of the room. The media weren’t helping. They had already crafted their own sensationalist version of the events. The news told of the once great inspector that had murdered his superior to join the very criminal he vowed to stop: Lupin the third. Every channel was replaying clips of Lupin as he raced arm in arm with the Inspector mere hours ago. Lupin frowned as he watched Zenigata being dragged along the rooftops, limping along on his injured leg and hip for the millionth time.

It was amazing they’d both made it out alive. 

The group responsible had failed in their mission to take Zenigata’s life tonight. More than that, their organisation had been swiftly destroyed. No one messed with Lupin the third, and trying to destroy Pops was as good as spitting in his eye. He had taken it personally. But that didn’t stop the uncomfortable feeling crawling in his chest that ultimately they had won by taking everything else Zenigata lived for.

Pops thrived on being a cop and taking care of things. Feeling needed and in charge is what kept him going. He was damn good at it, too. Despite only catching Lupin a handful of times, other criminals weren’t so lucky. His record was impeccable.

Well, up until tonight of course. Now it had the blood of a Interpol chief splattered across it. Even though Lupin knew Zenigata hadn’t done it, it didn’t matter. Lies could just as easily destroy a man’s career.

Lupin made a sound of disgust as the sight of Jigen’s police headshot showed up. What spiel where they going to make up about his involvement? Apart from taking out the hitmen, Jigen had little to do with Zenigata.

“It’s the 24 hour news cycle, Lupin. This is all you’ll hear for the next few days. Then, they’ll forget about us. Pushed aside for the next spectacle.”

Lupin almost jumped at the sound of Zenigata’s voice. He hadn’t spoken since the shouting match earlier.

”Hm, I know.” Lupin hummed in agreement, walking over to flop on the couch. He was comforted when he felt a heat radiating from the body beside him. Zenigata was warm. _Still_ _alive_ , Lupin reminded himself.

“Here, you look like you need a few dozen of these.” Lupin joked as he pushed the drink into Zenigata’s hands.

He got a grunt of thanks in reply as Pops took a swig. When no more sounds followed, Lupin knew the conversation had ended as quickly as it had begun.

 

————-

 

The morning after reminded Lupin of an awkward one night stand.

Questions whirred through his mind, and he knew the answer to none of them. As he recalled the events of yesterday, the strange swell in his stomach grew. It had all happened so fast and only now he was processing it. 

They had saved Zenigata’s life. 

But now the man was a felon, wanted by the law.

It was all just so _wrong._

Rolling sluggishly out of the bed he shared with Jigen, Lupin stretched his limbs with a groan. He watched in amusement as the gunman beside him grumbled gibberish and pulled the sheets tighter over himself. He never did like cold mornings.

Standing up, Lupin walked towards the living room. He supposed he should check that Pops had even stuck around. There was always the chance he’d slipped out as they slept, however slim. When Lupin peeked into the room, he quickly got his answer.

Zenigata, his oldest rival, was curled up on their couch. It was a bizarre sight to see first thing in the morning. A sad one, too. Rows of empty beer bottles sat in a small semi circle around the man, like he had tried to summon more alcohol before passing out. Zenigata’s arm was bent under his head in a way that would definitely leave an ache when he awoke. Lupin could smell the lingering smoke in the room.

Lupin winced. He certainly hoped Pops had left at least one cigarette for Jigen when he woke up, or they’d regret it. The man was borderline feral without his nicotine fix. 

Not wanting to go up and shake the man awake (he’d seen what happened to poor souls who dare startle the hardened Interpol officer- it usually involved a headlock or a blow to the stomach) he turned the tv to a moderate volume and puttered into the kitchen to make coffee for himself.

After a few minutes, Lupin heard the clumsy clattering of bottles and a gruff voice swear in the room over. Pops must have gotten up.

Pouring the boiled water into a chipped mug, he listened to the footsteps plod down the hall, closer, until they stopped at the kitchen entrance.

“Morning, Pops!” Lupin crooned, laughing at the groan he got in reply. “How are you feeling?”

“ _Dead_.” Zenigata croaked out, sitting down on one of the stools pushed up against the counter.

“Aww, that’s a real pity.”

Zenigata flashed him a look, warning the other he wasn’t in the mood. Lupin gave him a crooked smile.

Joining the other man, Lupin pulled himself up and sat on top of the counter. As he cradled the warm cup and contentedly sipped away his coffee, he watched Zenigata rub his temples ruefully. The man's eyes were squeezed tightly shut. 

“Hey, don’t die on us now-“ Zenigata flinched as Lupin slapped a hand onto his shoulder playfully. “Not after all that effort we put into saving your ass!”

Zenigata let out a gravelly laugh, rough from a night of alcohol and cigarettes. It sounded utterly joyless. 

“About that…  thank you. _Really_. If you hadn't been there last night, I don’t-” Zenigata trailed off, and Lupin couldn’t tell if the man was getting emotional, or he was simply nauseous from his hangover. Either way, the air had become thick.

“Psh, it was nothing.” Lupin waved off sheepishly. He wasn’t one to be humble, but it was too early in the morning to deal with emotions.

But he _was_ curious. And Zenigata seemed settled enough to finally give him some answers.

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Zenigata shrugged. “Shoot.”

“The one thing I can’t figure out Is why you didn’t _stop_ them.” Lupin stood, discarding his empty mug in the sink. “I knew something was off, months ago. But I didn’t pry because you didn’t tell us! Or anyone, for that matter. Your not the kind of guy to roll over for a bunch of thugs and your certainly not beyond asking us to help you out. What gives? Why just let them wreck your life like that?”

Zenigata slumped over the bench. He was choosing his answer, Lupin could tell.

“I did tell people, Lupin. My Director knew of my concerns almost immediately. So did the Head of Management. I found out key names and placed them on his desk, thinking he’d assist me. Though at that time I still didn’t know-“

“-That ICPO was in on it? Pretty obvious, Pops.” Lupin drawled. “I thought you were smarter than _that_.” 

Zenigata’s stare grew dark and immediately Lupin realised he’d hit a nerve. Lupin was scared he’d kick off another screaming match similar to the one he did last night, but instead the man began to play with a plastic bread tie on the counter and brooded.

“Look I know to you Interpol is just a synonym for ‘pain in the ass’, but for me it was the organisation I served for over seven years. Sure there were scumbags in the ranks, but there were some men I trusted too. Good men. I thought that Interpol would-“ Zenigata stopped, a bitter scoff replacing those words. “Hell, I don’t know what I thought. I certainly know what I think of them now.”

“And what’s that?” 

“The same sentiment you hold, Lupin _._ Bunch of bastards - the lot of them.”

Lupin stared at Zenigata, pondering how true that really was. He stepped behind him, placing a hand on the back of the cracked leather seat as he leant down to his eye level. “You know, out of all my years of dealing with police, I think I’ve only met one cop that wasn’t a waste of oxygen.” He mused.

“Yeah? And who was this mythical cop?”

“ _You.”_  

Despite the slight blush that came to his cheeks Zenigata still frowned, reclining in his seat so he could look Lupin in the eyes. “Only you would ever consider that a compliment.” He said, dismissive.

“Hey! What is that supposed to mean?” Lupin bristled. He tried to be nice and it had been thrown back in his face!

“Lupin, only a terrible policeman is liked by the criminals he’s trying to put behind bars. Besides, of course you’d think I’m special. I used to chase after _you_ for a living.”

“That’s not the only reason! I’ll have you know - _oh_.” Lupin stopped.

Zenigata raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“ _Oh no.”_  

Lupin could see Pops face shift from confusion to quiet concentration as he heard it too. Shuffling and cursing in the room over. It was punctuated when something shattered onto carpeted floor.

“The hell is that?”

Lupin grimaced.

“Please tell me you didn’t smoke that whole pack of cigarettes that was sitting on the table in the lounge room.”

“I-“ Zenigata looked unsure as he scanned his alcohol glazed memory. “I’m not sure. Perhaps. Why?”

“ _Shit_. Jigen’s gonna be so _mad_ -“ 

When the man in question stormed into view, even Lupin was impressed with how quickly he threw Pops under the bus. 

“He smoked them! Not me.” Lupin squeaked, pointing to the hungover man sprawled limp over the bench. “All of them. The whole pack.”

Jigen looked to Lupin, then down to Zenigata. Upon seeing the half dead man, his gaze softened. Or at least Lupin suspected it did. He couldn’t see Jigen’s eyes behind that hat, but he hadn’t drawn his gun and that was always a promising sign.

“I don’t damn care who did it.” Jigen grumbled after a heavy pause, pushing his way past to get a mug out of the cupboard. “All I care is there’s a pack in front of me by the time I’ve finished this coffee, got it?” 

Lupin nodded, relief flooding him.

“Of course! I was going to make a trip to the store anyway.“

“ _Good_.”

As Lupin turned to leave, he was surprised to hear a chair squeak behind him. Zenigata rose with a laboured groan.

“I’ll come too. I smoked them, so it’s only fair I pay for them.” He announced dutifully.

Lupin couldn’t help the smirk that grew on his face. Ol’ Pops and his sense of unwavering integrity would never fade, even as a criminal it seemed.

“Hey, not gonna argue with that!” Lupin laughed, grabbing his jacket and walking to the door.

 

—————

 

Lupin soon realised as they set off that maybe he should have opposed Pops tagging along. The man was still injured and hobbled with a pained gait. Not that the stubborn fool would admit it of course; any comments that Lupin made had been met with the gruff assurance that he was fine _thankyouverymuch_.

To keep the peace, Lupin had simply dropped it. When Pops got that determined look in his eye, nothing could stop him.

It didn’t change the fact Zenigata was drawing attention to the pair. His trench coat had dark black stains crusting the left side where he’d been cut. He looked like death on two legs. He also reeked of booze. Not exactly what you want when you’re trying to lay low.

Eventually they made it to the small convenience store a block away. Lupin opened the shop door with a jingle and took a step inside. He scanned the tiny cluttered store, relieved when he saw that they were the only two around.

“Hey, just stick to the shelves over there, ok?” Lupin muttered to Zenigata. “I’ll do all the walking and talking.” 

With a nod, Zenigata thankfully obeyed. But not before grabbing a few crumpled euro out of his trouser pocket and sternly handing them to Lupin.

“That should cover the cigarettes.” 

Lupin just rolled his eyes fondly in response, shaking his head as the man walked off. It didn’t take long for Lupin to grab the necessities and find his way to the counter. After the cashier lazily punched in the items, he drawled out the total. 

“-And can I get a pack of Marlboro?” Lupin asked, casually pointing.

The cashier fetched it out from the rack behind him and placed them on the counter. Lupin retrieved the money from his jacket, now entangled with the few crumpled notes Pops gave him.

“Alright, just need to see some ID.”

Lupin cocked a brow. _Was this man for real_?

“I’m flattered!” Lupin laughed off. “But I _really_ don’t look under eighteen. I wish I did!”

“Look man just show me it,” the cashier sighed. “You have one of those weird baby faces and I have to check; my boss has really been pushing it lately.”

With a huff Lupin went to retrieve his fake Licence. Patting his back pocket, he frowned when he felt nothing. His grimace deepened even more when he realised the backup he kept in his front pocket was also absent. Well then. Guess there was only one cause of action.

“Oh, here it is-“ Lupin crooned, taking the chance to glance at Zenigata. Like any good cop would be, the other man was discreetly keeping tabs. Zenigata’s body was turned towards a shelf filled with colourful cereals, but he was clearly listening in. Knowing he had Pops attention, Lupin suddenly lurched forward, scooping up the items and leaving a plume of euros in their place. 

“Wha- Hey! Stop!”

“Keep the change!” Lupin shouted over his shoulder to the bewildered employee as he made a beeline for the door.

“C’mon, Pops!”

To Lupin’s surprise when he turned to slam the the door open with his foot, Zenigata was already there holding it wide for him.

“I know a path we can take. A shortcut.” Zenigata said quickly, rushing through. 

Lupin just nodded, trusting the other man's judgement. As he followed Pops out onto the sidewalk and down a small alley close to their hideout, he couldn’t help but ponder how he would have chosen the exact same route.

 

—————-

 

“Are you for real? _Lupin_.” Jigen scowled, blowing a cloud of smoke out the window and turning to his friend.

“I know, he asked _me_ for ID! Can you believe it?” Lupin scoffed, folding his legs as he shuffled into the couch cushions. “I do _not_ have a baby face.”

“You fuckin’ know that’s not what I was talking about, you baby faced asshole!” A smack against Lupin’s head punctuated the gunman’s point. “That could have gone sour fast! And for what? A pack of damn cigarettes? You shoulda just come back here and-“

“And _what_? Admit defeat in front of Pops? Never!” 

Jigen just sat back and grumbled something as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“Zenigata _._ ” Goemon mused grimly from his spot in the corner. “He’s a man who brings out the worst in you.”

“I resent that!” Lupin pouted. “In fact we worked pretty well when fleeing that store. Everytime I went to do something, he was a already one step ahead of me!”

“Of course he was.” Jigen drawled.” It was his damn job to do exactly that. Because he was ICPO. He had the power to lock us up until forty or so hours ago. _You remember_?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Lupin raked a hand through his hair and leant back, grinning. “But it makes you think. I mean, with his _skills-_ “

“ _Lupin._ ” Jigen warned, leaning closer. “Don’t ever go there.”

“Aww come on, aren’t you even a little curious?”

“Nope.” Jigen shook his head, flicking his cigarette away. “That has ‘bad idea’ written all over it. Never mess with ex-feds.”

“Aww you're no fun! Goemon-”

“ _-Absolutely not.”_

Lupin huffed, crossing his arms at the pair. How _boring_. He looked towards the bathroom door in the hall, watching as the rising steam leaked from its edges. Pops was having a shower. His wounds had reopened when they were running away, but he’d gotten snappy when Lupin offered to patch him up. He’d insisted he wasn’t useless and could do it himself. So damn stubborn.

Lupin shrugged. He supposed he could relate; the thief was stubborn too.

Once an idea got into his head, he rarely let it go.

 

——————

 

Zenigata for the next week pottered around aimlessly. 

It was like the gangs hideout had become possessed. Or when Pops big, forlorn eyes cast across Lupin and sent a cold chill down his spine, it certainly felt similar.

Zenigata was a ghost of his former self. A ghost that cried a lot in the shower where he thought no one could hear him and spent most of his time looking forlornly at his old police ID. It was pretty pitiful. But he was also a ghost that dutifully cooked and cleaned for them, so that was nice at least. 

At no point had Lupin extended the invitation to stay, but he supposed it went without words. The gang would take care of Pops till he healed up to make up for all the times he had stuck his neck out for them. In a miserable way, it felt like a send off. He wasn’t going to be chasing them anymore, so no hostility should lay stagnant between them.

Lupin’s mind would constantly wander to who Zenigata’s replacement would be. Would they be a crooked cop? Or have integrity like old Pops? Would they be tall? Short? Blonde? Tan? What if they were hot? Could it ever be remotely the same as when Zenigata had been in charge? These questions nagged at him and dragged him down with their uncertainty.

Maybe Lupin was getting old. He found he loathed change the more time went on. Not even the idea of some sexy, buxom cop chasing the gang around got him excited. He’d take Pops old, boney ass chasing him any day of the week.

He could tell Zenigata was obsessed with his successor also. The radio in the kitchen was tuned to the police frequency 24/7 and Pops never left its orbit. He was waiting for a name. The name of the man or woman who would take over his life’s goal. It consumed him.

Much to Lupin’s disheartenment, Zenigata’s new life goal in the meantime was to take up as little of the worlds space as possible. He stuck to the corner of the couch or sometimes leant on the small veranda of their apartment to smoke. He ate little. He talked less. He drank a _lot_.

With the growing amount of time that passed, Lupin realised a few things. The first was that Zenigata wasn’t going to ‘snap out’ of his haze anytime soon like he’d naively hoped. Not without a push at least. He seemed utterly aimless and in truth not even Lupin really knew what he should do next.

Well Lupin quietly knew what he _wanted_ Zenigata to do, but it was so unlikely he realised it was nothing more than a childish fantasy. But there always was that free space next to Goemon in the backseat of their little yellow fiat. Sure it was filled by Fujiko on occasion, but a more permanent member would be great. Pops talents and tenacity would be indispensable to the gang. They’d be unstoppable together.

But that brought him to his next observation: the gang was apprehensive of their new fourth wheel. Goemon only showed only mild disquiet to having to share the silence with another, but Jigen wasn’t quite as complacent. At first he’d thought the gunman was being callous, but once he saw through the harsh words and focused his actions, he realised the true cause of it all.  

Jigen was hiding his guns.

He’d never had any whims about keeping them out in the open for the ungodly number of years that Lupin had been working and living with the man. But now he did so with a ritualistic upkeep. The only change had been Zenigata’s presence.

When Lupin made the mistake of asking, the answer he received was blunt. It had tore apart his little idealistic bubble faster than anything else could have. His friend was good at that.

“If I left em’ laying around, Pops could get the temptation to blow his brains out.” Jigen had shrugged, as he slipped his pistol in the drawer for the night. “Seen enough of that kinda thing to know the signs. He’s a wreck right now. Don’t want my guns to be involved with it. You knew that, though.”

Lupin nodded. He indeed did.

 

———————

 

“They said it! I heard it.”

Lupin blinked, taking a few steps back to gawk at Pops sitting in the kitchen. Lupin had just been walking down the hall and honestly he wasn’t even sure if he was being addressed or not.

“P-pops?”

“The _name_ , Lupin.” Zenigata said, a wild look in his eye. “The new Inspector designated to your - and I suppose my own - case.”

“Oh.” Lupin said. “ _Oh_!”

Closing the gap, Lupin sat down.

“His name is Inspector Tamare.” Zenigata started, and Lupin noted this was the most animated he’d seen the man in weeks.

“Huh, a Frenchman. You know him.” Lupin said. Not a question; Pops tone told him that much.

“He was just a cop working for the National police in Paris when I met him. He was assisting me in _your_ capture, actually. God if I had known what I do now… I would have taken him up on his constant small talk. Gotten to know him.”

Lupin squinted, trying to remember ever meeting this man. He couldn’t materialize a face, so he doubted it.

Zenigata made a noise of dismissal at the lost chance. “From what I can remember, he was quite like myself. Mind you, this was years ago, so there’s a chance he’s completely changed but- he was a hard worker, albeit a little clumsy and idealistic. He had a good heart, though. That I remember clear as day.”

Surprise clutched Lupin when Pops smiled. He seemed… relieved? 

“Huh? And what is that look for?” Lupin cocked an eyebrow. “You pleased with your replacement?”

Zenigata laughed. Lupin’s face twisted further into confusion.

“Yes, actually. Lupin don’t you see? I don’t give a fuck who replaces me! No skin off my back. That life is behind me; whether I like it or not.”

“Then why-“

“But _you,_ Lupin.” The thief looked on dumbly as Zenigata poked a finger into his chest. “ _You._ I had so many chances to shoot you. Smother you. Stab you! You’ve been so close that I could just… _finish you_ -“ Zenigata shook his head, disgusted at the thought. “I never did. Or would. I wanted to arrest you, Lupin. Bring you to justice. I never wanted you dead.”

Pops smiled again. Smaller this time.

“And so will Inspector Tamare, I’m sure.”

It hit Lupin like a tidal wave when he finally understood. Zenigata was never concerned for himself. The constant monitoring of the radio, the obsessive behaviour. Things Lupin had assumed were out of jealousy and spite.

It was all because he was _scared_ for Lupin. He didn’t want a crooked cop hunting him or his gang down; then getting an easy arrest in by placing a bullet between their eyes and bringing them in via body bags. He supposed after Zenigata’s own demise to police corruption, his hopes had been low. 

Even with nothing left, Zenigata wanted the best for Lupin. _Always._

Lupin let out a shaky breath.

Whoever this Tamare guy was, he’d never be Koichi Zenigata. That was for sure.

No one could be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the part of the story where I pull a my immortal and describe clothes for an hour, sorry lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments! I’m pretty stoked to see such amazing feedback; I wasn’t expecting it at all knowing how small this fandom was. But wow! Thanks guys :D

Zenigata brought the bottle to his lips, swallowing the last mouthful of scotch it contained. As he swished around the now woefully empty piece of glass, he sighed. It was too early in the day to beg for more alcohol and he didn’t want to be any more of a burden than he already was to Lupin and company.

It felt maddening, not even having enough money left in his pockets to drown his sorrows in a bottle of spirits. He’d tried to buy something a few days ago, but the bank were no doubt keeping track of his account, and his Interpol expenses card was predictably frozen. He wasn’t quite to the point of petty theft, so he’d have to wait until Lupin’s and Jigen’s nightly booze run. Luckily Zenigata’s single bottle of alcohol was rather quaint next to the gangs lavish pile of beer, wine, sake and cigarettes.

Zenigata had always suspected as much, but the gang recklessly drunk and gambled away most of their stolen money in their down time. The funny thing was Zenigata couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad; with the amount of rich fools he had encountered hunting down Lupin, it was almost refreshing to see someone actually _use_ their money and not just leave it to rot in a bank.

Leaning on the railing of the veranda, he looked out over the rows of little crooked houses. This certainly wasn’t the picturesque part of France everyone thought of, but it had its own charm, especially with the morning fog sitting in icy streaks across the sky.

When the door behind him creaked open, Zenigata didn’t move from his place. He knew who it was; the same person it had been every morning for the past two weeks.

He wasn’t sure why Jigen had taken to smoking out on the veranda with him - honestly he thought the other man detested his very existence, especially after the cigarette debacle - but Zenigata had grown accustomed to his company nonetheless. Unlike Lupin, Jigen didn’t need to fill the air with constant chatter. They often sat in silence, leaving each other to their own respective thoughts. It was comfortable.

As Jigen fumbled with a smoke beside him, Zenigata continued to stare out into the brisk morning.

“Ah. _Fuck_.” The gunman grumbled, patting his pockets. “Ya got a light?”

Zenigata grunted in affirmation and turned, fishing a zippo out of his pocket. Flicking it into action and holding it up to the cigarette pursed between the other man's lips, there was that brief beat between them until it finally caught fire. Once successfully lit, Jigen murmured his thanks and turned to look at the view in front of them, elbows leaning on the railing. They then settled back into their familiar silence.

After a few minutes, Zenigata noticed something in the streets below. A spattering of early risers were moving around, but he had paid no attention until a bright green jacket bobbed amongst them. Lupin really was one of the few people you could spot a mile away. He watched on as the thief crossed the street, a thickshake in one hand and various shopping bags in the other. Zenigata could tell from the logos ostentatiously slapped across the bags that it was all designer. Maybe the fellon had decided it was time for a change in wardrobe?

When Lupin noticed the two staring down at him, he giggled and threw his thickshake holding hand into the air, giving them a wave with the brightly packaged drink. Jigen tipped his hat in response, amused. Zenigata also gave a small wave back.

As Lupin disappeared underneath them and entered the apartment complex, Jigen snubbed out his cigarette and turned to go inside.

“Well, suppose we should go see what heinous new colours he’s bought this time.” Jigen drawled.

“How do you know it’s going to be different?” Zenigata asked. “He could just be stocking up on several backup green jackets.”

Jigen shook his head. “Nah, he always changes it up after a big life event. Usually a faked death or long hiatus. You not chasing him anymore is a pretty big deal. End of an era and all that shit. Knew from the minute it happened he’d be itching to shed his skin.”

“Oh, I see.” Zenigata pondered. “Here I was thinking the technicolor jackets were because he had the fashion sense of a blind parrot.”

A sharp laugh came out of Jigen. “Oh no, you’re right about that.”

“So it’s _both_?”

“Yeah.” Jigen scratched his beard contemplatively. “I’d say a thirty seventy split.”

“What’s the bad fashion sense, the seventy?”

Jigen merely raised his hands in mock defensiveness as he opened the door, taking a step inside.

“Ya know, seeing Lupin pays my bills? I’m not gonna answer that.” He announced, a sly smile on his face.

When the door click shut, Zenigata shook his head. Pushing himself upright, he followed after the man.

 

—————————

 

Jigen, of course, had been right. You didn’t spend all that time with another human being and not get to know their habits. Zenigata knew much about Lupin in his own slightly disconcerting way, but nothing in the league that Jigen did. Those two men were like soulmates, in a odd sense.

When they had walked back inside Lupin was already waiting for them, sitting in the middle of the sofa with one of the bags placed proudly in his lap. His presence demanded both of their full attentions. Zenigata glanced over to Goemon by the window, who seemed utterly uninterested. He had his eyes shut and head bowed. _Probably in deep meditation_ , Zenigata thought to himself.

“Alright; show us what fashion crime we’re gonna have to work alongside.” Jigen sighed as he took a seat opposite to Lupin. Zenigata mimicked the gunman’s actions, instead leaning on the opposite wall with his arms crossed.

With a toothy grin and a total disregard for Jigen’s comment, Lupin dipped his hands into the bag and pulled out a plume of fabric with a giddy flourish.

“ _Ta-da_!”

Lupin was holding up a yellow jacket.

It wasn’t the gaudy canary yellow that one would expect, but rather a warmer hue. It reminded Zenigata of the golden coloured chrysanthemums that used to grow in his mother's garden as a child. It was chipper and bright. It was a colour he would have happily worn himself.

“Huh. I was expecting something… _flashier_.” Jigen admitted.

Lupin let out a sound of exasperation, shooting him a look.

“I’m _so sorry_! I’ll make sure to buy a neon orange jacket for you to laugh at next time. Goemon? Got anything to say?”

The samurai cracked an eye open and looked over the garment.

“It... certainly is a jacket.” Goemon helpfully confirmed.

Lupin pouted. His gaze turned to Zenigata.

“Pops, they’re killing me! You gotta give me a compliment: _Now_.”

Zenigata squared his shoulders. Only a brat like Lupin would _demand_ flattery. But he gave it nonetheless. With a genuine sincerity, too.

“It’s a _very nice jacket_ , Lupin. A warmer colour suits you.”

Lupin’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and Zenigata hated how his heart leaped a little at the sight. He always liked to see Lupin beaming like that; it usually meant that they were on the same page, even if it was  for the briefest moment. It was nice to be reminded the man he dedicated his entire life to didn’t totally detest him.

“See! That’s what you guys were _supposed_ to say!” Lupin lectured playfully.

“Hm. I’ll make sure to remember that, _boss_.” Jigen replied dryly, rising from his seat. Though as he got up, something caught his eye. Following Jigen’s gaze, Zenigata too noticed the second bag sitting at Lupin’s feet.

“Hey, what’s that?” Jigen pressed, strolling up to his friend. “More clothes? Are they for me?”

“Nope!” Lupin laughed, snatching the bag up and hiding it behind his back. “You dress like you’re going to a _funeral_. No fun to buy for at all. Well, unless it’s for a disguise.”

“Hey! It’s _my look_.”

“And I’m saying it’s a _boring_ one. You wanna buy your hundredth black suit? You can do that with your own money.” Lupin smirked. “Nah, this is for Pops.”

Zenigata looked up at the mentioning of his nickname _. It was for him?_

As Jigen slumped onto the couch in disappointment, Lupin stood. Taking a few steps in Zenigata’s direction, Lupin made sure the bag remained hidden from view, clutched behind his back. Zenigata regarded the Cheshire like grin that was plastered on his face, and felt hesitation. Maybe it was from years of pranks and pettiness, but in that moment he didn’t trust Lupin one bit. That was the kind of smile the thief would flash before a sly escape or worse, blinding _pain_.

Instincts starting to frizzle with a familiar tension, Zenigata took a step back.

“What’s in the bag, Lupin?”

Lupin let out a breezy laugh. “It’s a surprise!”

_A surprise from Lupin was never a good thing._

Zenigata frowned. “What kind?”

“A nice one, I assure.”

_A brazen lie. He’s trying to trick you. There’s a reason he kept Jigen away from the bag._

Lupin closed the gap between them, retrieving the bag and waggling it in front of Zenigata by its handles. _Beckoning_. “Why don’t you find out?”

Zenigata scoffed. Not a chance in hell! With such cryptic replies? _Definitely_ a trap. He went to further the distance between the two, but felt his back bump against the wall. _Trapped_. The door was to his right, but it wasn’t a viable root of escape. Lupin could intercept him easily-

“Woah! Pops; relax!” Lupin pleaded, obviously picking up on his tense mood.

Zenigata let out a frustrated growl, hands flying to his coat pocket. They were empty _. His handcuffs. Where were they?_

All thoughts stopped when Lupin lurched towards him. There was no time counter; Zenigata just clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the blow. The kick, the punch. Knife. Small explosive. Electric shock. It didn’t matter, he’d experienced it all before.

Instead, he felt a dull slap of plastic as the bag was pushed into his stomach.

“Hey! It’s just clothes! Look, see?”

When Zenigata’s panicked eyes flew open and met with Lupin’s, the younger man’s face was scrunched in concern. Looking down, Zenigata peeked into the bag. From within the plastic he could spy some grey fabric. A cool, fancy colour. A receipt was nestled on top, but the price was curled underneath itself and out of view.

Zenigata blinked. Submerging a hand into the bag, he felt only the brush of soft fabrics on his skin.

Oh.

It _was_ just clothes. No hidden secrets. No pain. Zenigata had completely misread the other man. His shame mixed with the lingering adrenaline, creating an emotion that felt akin to trying to sprint through mud. Zenigata could feel his face go hot with embarrassment.

“Lupin, I’m so _sorry-_ “

“It’s fine. You’re not a fan of surprises, especially from me.” The man chuckled, a glint in his eye. “ _That’s_ _understandable_.”

He was glad Lupin didn’t seem fazed by his behaviour. That didn’t stop him from feeling utterly awful, though.

“Are these really for me?” Zenigata asked, unsure.

“Of course! You can’t keep walking around in your old rags. Gotta look good for the press if they think you’re a part of our gang.”

 _A part of Lupin’s gang._ Was that what he was now?

Zenigata pushed away the thought, feeling traitorous at the warmth it brought him.

He wasn’t a part of _anything_. Just look at the way he behaved when offered a simple gift; he didn’t trust these people. Lupin had said it himself, this all was just the media’s creation. A misunderstanding. Zenigata knew what a perfectionist the other man was; everything in Lupin’s life was crafted exactly how he wished it to be. If Lupin wanted him to join their crew, the offer would have been extended to him by now. It had been weeks. Lupin was just paying his dues, nothing more.

It was like this bag of clothing: just a gift. Simple pleasantries from someone as rich as Lupin, really.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Try them on!” The thief said giddily, pushing the bag into his arms.

“Oh, I-“

“Go on! Show us how great I am at picking out outfits.”

With that he was waved away and dismissed. He numbly obeyed the order, disappearing down the hall and into the bathroom.  


——————-

 

Well.

The outfit was _stunning_.

Zenigata had to hold back tears not just once but _twice_ while getting dressed. Gestures like this for him were just so few and far between that he wasn’t even sure if Lupin understood the magnitude. When one of his officers would do something as simple as buy him a coffee, it would make his heart flutter. He could only deduce that Lupin was trying his darndest to kill him, because this was simply too much.

It all felt too fancy for him. Just… so out of his league. Every inch of the outfit screamed quality and luxury; he hated to think how much it all costed. Either way it felt like it was supposed to be on the body of a gorgeous celebrity, not an aging ex-cop.

Zenigata’s last suit had been second hand. A tux rental place was getting rid of old stock at clearance prices and he’d seized the opportunity. His hat had been stolen from a hotel coat rack in Saint-Denis three years ago when his old one had blown away during a rooftop chase. His coat was probably older than Lupin, and had been stitched back together with a travel sewing kit he kept in the dashboard of his cop car more times than he could count.

That’s just how things were. He didn’t get the fancy clothes, or the doting fans, or even the nice food. He just ate ramen and drifted around the dingy motels of the world, chasing Lupin the 3rd.

Zenigata knew when he framed it like that, he really shouldn’t miss that lifestyle. But _god_ did he. He’d give anything in the world to be _Zenigata-keibu_ again. Even now there was still that empty ache in his chest when he thought about it.

Distracting himself from his thoughts, Zenigata turned back to the mirror and regarded himself once more, pointedly ignoring his face. He’d pay no attention to the dark circles under his eyes, or the sad spattering of stubble, or the deepening _frown lines-_

The clothes.

The ones Lupin had graciously bought him.

He should focus on those.

He brushed his hand over the lapel of his forest green suit. It was made from some sort of silky material that seemed completely impractical, but sure as hell felt good. Lupin had matched it with a brown tie and cream coloured dress shirt. The grey colour he’d spied earlier had been a woolen trench coat. It was the colour of wet concrete and he _adored_ it.

When he’d dug further into the bag, he noted Lupin had even bought a belt and shoes. Both Italian leather. Not just that, but the same leather that made up the band of his hat. Lupin always was one for details, Zenigata mused. That was why his disguises were so convincing; the sheer intricacy. That was also the reason why Lupin knew Zenigata’s exact measurements, he could only assume. The thief had certainly impersonated him enough times to have them memorised. Everything he’d bought had fit like a glove.

A sudden twist of the door handle behind him made Zenigata jump.

“ _Wha-_ I mean who-?”

“Just me!”

Lupin grinned wide as he pushed the door open, poking his head through without so much as a knock. Privacy was long dead in this house, it seemed.

“ _Ooh._  Looking _good,_  Pops.” Lupin whistled, as he laid eyes on Zenigata. “I really outdid myself.”

Zenigata bashfully shrugged off the compliment, looking away to hide his growing blush. Not that effective when you’re in the one room in the house that had mirrors plastered on every wall, but a man could at least pretend to have dignity.

“What do you want, Lupin?”

“We’re gonna go out for breakfast.” Lupin explained. “I’m starving and I’m sure you’ve had enough time to admire yourself.”

Zenigata took a step away from the mirror, clearing his throat. Ah yes. ‘Admiring’. He supposed it was a compliment Lupin thought he was preening rather than the far sadder truth.

“Oh, well I’ll let you do what you need to do.” Zenigata said, clearing a path for Lupin so he could make it past him. He crouched and pushed aside his old clothes; he’d put them in the wash basket later. Or maybe the bin, if he was being completely honest with himself.

“I don’t need to use the bathroom,” Lupin rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you this because _you're coming with us.”_

Zenigata shot up in surprise, cursing as his head hit the vanity. Before he could gather his bearings and get his objection out, Lupin beat him to the punch.

“No arguing! Ok? I’m dragging you outside before I come home to find ‘ _all work and no play make Koichi a dull boy’_ scribbled on the walls.”

Unamused as he was with the comparison, Lupin did have a point. Zenigata was feeling pretty boxed in. He’d barely left in house in weeks. Because of that, his anger had been flaring up. Arguments between him and Lupin were common. Misunderstandings were plentiful. More than that, his injury was almost fully healed. Now, with these new clothes he really had ran out of excuses to be such a shut in.

“Come on, Pops.” Lupin warned, a playful edge to his tone. “I’m not gonna take no for an answer.”

Zenigata rubbed his head woefully and sighed. This wasn’t a battle he would win, he could already tell.  


——————  


Before they left the house, Zenigata made a point of retrieving his handcuffs. It only took a brief search to discover they had found their way onto Lupin’s desk, along with his gun and various other accoutrement. Had Lupin taken them? _Why_?

Zenigata loomed over the desk, frowning. He certainly didn’t put them there. Someone had deliberately removed them from his pockets. How long had they been absent? It was only in the living room he’d noticed they were missing.

With maybe a little more force than necessary, he made a show of shoving them back into his new coat. He knew Lupin and co were waiting for him in the hall, so would aware of what he was doing.

If anyone had an issue with it, they certainly didn’t say anything to his face when he emerged.  


——————

 

“Wow, that son of a bitch is really still alive and kicking?” Jigen mumbled around a mouthful of omelette.

“Yeah, saw him about a month ago in Spain. Isn’t that crazy? I thought that he’d died. But there he was!” Lupin shook his head at the audacity.

“What was he doing?” Jigen asked.

“I dunno? He was standing in the frozen food isle.”

“Course he was; as if that bastard could cook his own meals.”

Zenigata let out a quiet yawn, muffling the sound with his hand.

 _Petty gossip._ He didn’t think Jigen was the type to indulge in it, yet here he was. He and Lupin were chattering away about someone from their past - he had no clue who it was. But apparently seeing him in a supermarket was the most interesting thing known to humankind and had to be discussed at length.

No wonder Goemon always looked so bored at these outings. Is this what they did? Just chattered away about nonsense? Truth be told he liked it better on the other side. As a cop, the part where he screamed Lupin’s name and they all scattered like flies, swiftly abandoning their lattes and various dishes was always pretty amusing. The surprise usually also gave him the upper hand, however brief it was.

Plus if they did escape, he got to eat whatever they left behind.

It was just a fun time all around.

Zenigata sighed. At least the views were stunning and the food delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten this well. Like all things in Lupin’s life however, he’d chosen beauty and indulgence above practicality. The small cafe they were eating at was situated next to gorgeous hillside views, but also smack bang in the center of a busy tourist spot. He had spotted two cops in his fifteen minutes here.

No one else but him seemed to particularly care about that fact. The more he thought about it, the more it didn’t faze him either, he supposed. These police had their guard completely down, armed with only a issue pistol and cuffs. It would be no competition if a scuffle did break out. He’d just have to make sure to disarm them before anyone could get hurt.

Still, every time one of them got close, he could feel himself get tense. If a fight did break out, he’d be ready.

“I’m going to get another drink.”

Zenigata turned to Goemon’s voice. He’d honestly thought the other had fallen asleep. He’d been quite envious. As the other man stood and began to leave, that jealousy only grew. How come he could get out of this situation so easily?

Spiteful, Zenigata also rose from his seat.

“I’ll go too; I want another slice of that cherry clay- urh.” Zenigata frowned. _Dammit_. French wasn’t his strong suit. Lupin had ordered for them, being the only fluent one.

“The cherry clafoutis?” Lupin said with a smug ease. “How was it?”

“Obviously good if I want another.” Zenigata grumbled.

Lupin laughed. “You want me to get it for you? You can’t even say the word.”

“No thank you.” Zenigata turned sharply. “I can manage just fine by myself; no French needed. I’ll just do it the same way I have for years. Works in any corner of the world!”

“Oh yeah? And how’d you do it?”

“I point at the thing I want, then shout in Japanese until they give it to me.”

“Well shit.” Jigen muttered. “Must’ve trained under the same Master Goemon did. He uses a similar technique.”

That remark earnt a fit of giggling from Lupin. Goemon meanwhile seemed less pleased, storming away with a huff. Just as Zenigata was about to run and catch up with the samurai, he heard Lupin say something.

“Hey, Pops? Make sure neither you or Goemon make too much of a rukus, yeah? Wouldn’t want to attract the local wildlife.”

Looking behind him, he could see Lupin discreetly pointing at a cop about a foot away, who was taking pictures with tourists. Zenigata nodded obediently.

“Will do.”

 

—————-  


 

“What are you doing, Lupin?”

Lupin looked over at the gunman. Then, down to his drink.

“I’m drinking a cappuccino-?”

“Don’t act all obtuse. Fuckin’ hate it when you do that.” Jigen sighed as he leant in. “Why’d you drag Zenigata out here? And before you go on some spiel about how it was from the goodness of your heart; I know you deliberately picked a place with _cops_.”

Oh, _that._  Lupin hid a smile behind the rim of his cup, taking a sip. He should have known it would have been obvious to his friend. As a reward for his astute observation, Lupin decided to tell him the truth.

“I might be testing out a little theory.” He admitted, looking away. Zenigata and Goemon were still inside the cafe, hopefully not causing too much hell for the poor staff inside. He heard Jigen groan beside him.

“Course you are. What’s the theory?”

“I don’t want to tell you.” Lupin whined. “You’ll just call me an idiot.”

”I’ll call you that anyway. It’s practically in my contract at this point.”Jigen grumbled, taking a sip of his own drink. “Besides, I think I can already guess what this is about. All I’m gonna say is it’s your decision in the end. Don’t need my approval; I’m paid to be here after all.”

After a few beats of silence, Lupin spoke again.

“You gotta admit though, it’s pretty entertaining watching Pops glare knives at any cop that gets within ten feet of us. Can’t help but make a guy feel special.”

“He’s probably having a damn aneurysm, Lupin.”

“Pfft. You’re underestimating him. He could take down these guys no sweat and he knows it.”

“Then why’s he so tense?”

“Because of you! Me! Goemon! Ain’t it cute? He’s _protective_ of us, Jigen. We’re all he has left. Reminds me of one of those big hens standing broody over her chicks, glaring down a fox.”

Jigen finished the rest of his drink off and placed it down on the glass table with a clatter.

“You want to hear a story that only slightly relates to this conversation?”

Lupin shrugged. “Sure.”

“When I was a kid, I stayed at a friends place for the weekend. Birthday sleepover, if I remember. The house was on a decent sized property. They had horses and goats, it was a small hobby farm kinda deal. Anyway, we hear this noise during the night and race out with our torches to see one of their hens fighting a cat. The stray tabby had killed one of her chicks, and this chicken was _pissed._ ”

“Huh. How did that pan out?”

“Well I was looking on, thinking this poor momma bird and all her chicks were gonna die. Boy was I wrong. Never knew that chickens had claws sharp enough to _disembowel._ But hey, seven year old me sure learnt something new that night.”

Lupin nodded. “My point still stands, then! Pops has got a helluva set of talons on him. He just never used them on us.”

“ _Never used them_? What do you call the crazed globetrotting he’s done, all the traps he’s created over the years?”

“I dunno? Just some angry pecks to the back of the head? Or-“

Jigen groaned, “Lupin I swear to god, just stop it with the chicken metaphor! I get it. We’re not the dead cat, or fox, or whatever the fuck else. Even though we easily could have been. Is what you’re trying to say?”

Lupin took a sip of his coffee, savouring it. He greatly enjoyed hearing such stupid words coming out of Jigen’s mouth. But more than that the sentiment was correct.

Well, maybe. The metaphor had gotten muddled and incredibly stupid, he wasn’t really keeping track.

“Yeah, something like that.” Lupin mused.

 

——————  


The lady at the counter smiled politely, sliding over the two items. Another slice of cherry clafoutis for him, and a cup of warm milk for Goemon. Zenigata had managed to use his bare bones French to get a dash of vanilla added to the otherwise bland drink. He hoped the other man would like it.

“Ah, yes! Thank you! Merci!” Zenigata nodded, grabbing the items.

It was then he realised looking into the woman’s expectant face, that he in fact didn’t have any money on him. He froze in place. _Shit._ Oh well, he’d rather beg Goemon than Lupin, at least the swordsman wouldn’t make fun of him.

Scanning over the few patrons puttering around the cafe for Goemon, he grew irritated as the man was nowhere in sight. Apologetically placing the order back onto the counter and taking a step back to scan the far end of the room, his mild irritation dissolved into cold terror at what he saw.

Sitting at a table in the furthest corner of the establishment was none other than Inspector Tamere and two other Interpol officers. Spinning in the opposite direction to hide his face he cursed, panicked. Where was Goemon? He couldn’t just leave him on his own, but staying here a minute longer was dangerous.

“Ca va, Monsieur?” The worker behind the counter asked, confused.

Zenigata turned to the lady, smiling nervously. Yelling and making a fuss wouldn’t work this time. The last thing he needed was to draw more attention to himself. So instead he walked back up to the counter, preparing to explain in the most broken French ever witnessed that he was waiting for his friend, who had the money.

Luckily that wasn’t needed however, as Goemon took this moment to casually walk out of the bathroom. Zenigata spotted the other immediately, because you couldn’t exactly miss a man fully clad in traditional Japanese garb. He was still shaking the water from his hands as he joined Zenigata’s side.

“Listen to me.” Zenigata said, tone serious. “You need to pay for these quickly. We have to leave. I’ll explain why later.”

He watched brief hesitance flash over the swordsman’s face, but was relieved when Goemon nodded and stepped up to the counter to pay. Producing a card from god knows where, soon the two items were accounted for and they slipped out the cafe doors.

Once outside, Zenigata let out an audible huff of relief.

“What are we fleeing from?” Goemon asked.

“ICP️O.” Zenigata replied simply. He hated how that word sounded coming out of his mouth. An abbreviation he once announced with pride was now bitter and hollow. Looking for distraction he took a bite out of his clafoutis, then another. The dainty dessert crammed into his mouth pretty easily. He was a man that had eating on the run down to an art, after all.

“They have found us already? I see.” Goemon took the cue of the man beside him, draining the milk in one upwards tip. They left their crockery on a hedge nearby.

As Goemon placed his cup down, a part of Zenigata wanted to ask if he liked the vanilla. He pushed it down. There was more pressing matters right now. With a few more steps they reached their table. Lupin and Jigen looked up at them, their expressions telling.

“Something going on-?“ Lupin started, but was cut off by Zenigata’s stern tone.

“We have to leave. _Now_.” He ordered, body twisted in the direction of the car.

“Hang on!” Lupin waved the other to take a seat. “ _Why_?”

“Why- Lupin! _Tamare!_ That’s why!” Zenigata snapped. “He’s sitting in that cafe over there!”

Lupin’s eyes grew wide. But not out of fear, Zenigata grimly noted. _Oh no_. _Don’t you dare you little shit-_

“No way, he’s _here_?” Lupin grinned, excited. He squirmed out of his seat like a toddler breaking free of its high chair. “Lemme see!“

“Lupin!” Zenigata bellowed in frustration as the thief bounced to his feet. “You get in the car or I’ll drag you myself!”

“Not a chance!” Lupin laughed, racing back the way they came. “I wanna see what he looks like!”

“Then look at a fucking photo like a normal human being! _Lupin!_ Come back here!”

“Pfft. Can’t make a good disguise based off a lousy _picture_.” Lupin dismissed, bolting off.

With a growl he chased after Lupin because if he was going to do something so incredibly stupid, the very least he could do was make sure he didn’t do it alone. Keeping pace with the other, he followed him down the path. Lupin turned to him as they approached the cafe, a questioning look on his face. He hated how he knew _exactly_ what Lupin was going to ask before he even had said it. He hated even more that he dignified this madness with an answer.

“He’s at the very last window facing table, down the end.” Zenigata grit, pointing to the part of the building he had spied them in. Again, informed idiocy was better than the alternative. He could only hope the thief wouldn’t actually run _inside_.

With a wide smile Lupin whipped back around, running to the window. _Good, he’s not going for the door,_ Zenigata thought in relief. Lupin’s body made a little _plunk_ as he collided with the glass and Zenigata could immediately tell he’d found his target by the bombastic laugh that rippled out of the younger man.

“Hi!” Lupin shouted through the glass as he gave a wave. Even from where Zenigata stood, he could see Tamare burst into motion. The Inspector shot up, scrambling onto the table and pushing an officer out of the way to glare at Lupin through the thin layer separating them. “Inspector Tamare, I assume? Pleased to meet you! You have big shoes to fill, ya know that?”

Lupin flinched when Tamere threw a fist against the window. It made a loud bang from the force. Once Lupin blinked away the surprise, his smug smile returned tenfold.

“Oh?” Lupin whistled, impressed. “You’ve brought your own toys, too? I like that. Shows initiative!”

Clutched in Tamare’s hand was an electric baton. It fizzled against the glass, live and crackling. Zenigata frowned. Tamare was still a fan of his gadgets, it seemed. Still, it was better than a bullet. He’d take nonlethal restraint any day of the week.

Zenigata glanced behind him, feeling eyes on his back. People were staring. This little display was drawing attention from crowds and cops alike.

“Ok, you had your fun Lupin; it’s time to go.” Zenigata warned the younger man.

Lupin pouted, but thankfully obeyed.

“ _Fine_.” He sighed, taking a step back.

“It’s been fun meeting you, _Monsieur Tamare!_ I’m sure we’ll talk again _very soon_.”

Before Tamare or any of the Interpol men could even get up from their table and run outside, Lupin had already retrieved a small grey pellet from his jacket. Zenigata knew what that was. He braced himself for the gas, sucking in air. As expected, the whole outdoor dining area exploded into a thick plume of the stifling substance in mere milliseconds. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Zenigata centered himself and ran in the direction of the car, slipping away from the panicked crowds.

Once out of the sea of frantic limbs and panicked screeching, his ears tuned to the idled puttering of the Fiat. It was nearby, but he wasn’t sure of the direction.

“Lupin?” He shouted aimlessly into the smog.

“Over here!” Jigen’s gruff voice hollered back. Not the man he was calling out for, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Zenigata ran towards the sound. Eventually he saw the telltale yellow and felt his hand caress the cold metal of the car door. As he slipped inside the whole vehicle was already rolling and Lupin had his foot on the accelerator, itching to speed away.

“Everyone good?” Lupin asked, shifting in his seat.

It must have been a metaphorical question, as he didn’t wait for an answer. Zenigata cursed as the car took off, flinging him into the back seat.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the lovely feedback so far! Y’all really motivate me. And also sorry for the long gap between chapters. School work does that, unfortunately.

Lupin knew he’d done something stupid. Utterly brash. An act of idiocy that had achieved nothing apart from the briefest glance at Tamare.

But what else was new?

The Inspector had been quite tall; it was noticeable even as he was crouching on the table. Had a big nose. Blue eyes. Black, swept back hair. Long face. Typical Western European features, really. Had a grey trench coat on, as well. Then there was that _toy_. The electric baton was clearly custom. Lupin made a mental note to steal it at the first opportunity and take a good look at it.

All of it was nothing vital, but still fun to find out firsthand.

Feeling for the volume knob, Lupin turned up the radio. The ride back had become swallowed up by silence and it was making him antsy. The gang’s displeasure at having their breakfast cut short was palatable, but Lupin also knew no one would speak up against his crazed actions. Jigen was too loyal. Goemon was disciplined and knew when to pick his battles. It didn’t bother him. He knew he had their complete trust and tested it often. Lupin running up to an Interpol Inspector and taunting him was basically the  equivalent of a team building exercise. Except instead of falling on one another with eyes closed, there were guns and smoke bombs involved.

He hummed along as a pop tune came on. Lupin couldn’t lie, despite pissing everyone off he was quite pleased with himself.

If this dumb stunt had been a test of loyalties, Pops had passed with flying colours. The man had followed him the whole way, altruistic as always.

Lupin let his eyes wander to the rear view mirror. Within it, Zenigata was framed in its borders, body hunched and twisted off to one side. His dynamic pose reminded Lupin of a Greek statue. Zenigata also appeared as stiff as marble, with his sights set on the rear window. It was clear that no one was following them, but that didn’t seem to sate the other man. Pops continued to stand guard, ever vigilant.

As Lupin watched Zenigata, he couldn’t help but be drawn to his face. His eyes were filled with a stern resolve. It was a stark change from the shell of a man he had seen only this morning moping around the hideout. It encouraged Lupin to know at the tiniest taste of his old life, Pops had come back to life.

He could work with that.

Lupin resolutely decided he wanted to see him only like this. Not scrubbing dishes in their shitty apartment and day drinking. Domestic life didn’t suit Pops one bit, but this did.

This was where he _belonged._

 

—————-

 

_“For just three low payments of 5.99£* the multi tool pro can be yours! Comes free with six interchangeable nozzles and instruction booklet-“_

Zenigata let out a sigh, pressing the button on the remote for what felt like the millionth time. He knew it would do little, though. Every channel was trash. Cable tv was synonymous with it, he supposed. If you wanted the good stuff you had to pay for it. It didn’t help that he could only watch the handful of foreign channels that were available. Sure his English wasn’t flawless, but it was certainly better than the whole five words of French he knew.

He glanced towards the kitchen, which was alive with the sounds of crackling cooking and Lupin’s loud chatter. He’d offered to cook to pay Lupin back for the lunch and clothes, but the man had waved him off.

He knew Lupin had a subscription to at least one of those services; he sometimes saw the man watching shows on his laptop as he cooked. Still, he didn’t want to ask. It would be finally admitting to the fact he had become nothing more than a drunken couch potato who leached off other people. He wasn’t ready for that revelation quite yet.

_Click_.

“ _Wow, and here comes Jessica! Just look at that transformation! Our fashion gurus sure know their stuff, she’s a new woman! Now let’s see what her family thinks-“_

_Click._

_“And here you see the last of the southern woodley gopher. Due to habitat loss and shrinking food supply, they are now endangered-_ “

_Click._

_Click, click, clic-_

The remote had stopped working and Zenigata quickly realised why. The screen crackled with a staticky black as the samurai dropped the power cord at his feet. Zenigata glared at Goemon.

“No more terrible tv.” Goemon ordered, returning to his place in the corner.

Before Zenigata could object, Goemon was already seated and feigning mediation once more. Zenigata huffed; he was realising sitting down and looking serious was a great way to end conversations; maybe he should take a note from Goemon’s book and do it more.

“That was a bit dramatic.” Zenigata grumbled to the silent air. “Could have just turned it off.”

“That was _not_ dramatic,” Goemon replied, eyes still shut. “I didn’t cut a single object.”

“Hrm.”

He supposed the man did have a point; Goemon not cutting anything was a rare act of composure. But it still left him with this mind numbing _nothingness_. Throwing down the remote with a curse, Zenigata gave up. All he wanted to do was relax, but the universe apparently wouldn’t even let him have that.

Dully rolling his head in the direction of the kitchen, he remembered the large bottle of scotch Jigen had slipped away in a cupboard earlier that afternoon.

Maybe he should just drink himself unconscious?

It would certainly pass the time.

Drawn to the destructive impulse, he stood up. In the scheme of things it wasn’t the worst he could do. Either way the man desperately needed a distraction; his mood had grown dark since he’d gotten back to the hideout this morning. It had only swelled and grown throughout the day to the point it had reached now, where something as simple as bad cable tv felt like a personal attack. He couldn’t place why it was so bad tonight, he had been feeling slightly better these past few days.

He could only guess it was the absence of what he’d felt this morning. Joy at the new clothes. Then feeling like he had some sort of role in the group, however brief, as they fled Tamare and his officers.

When they had returned, it had all switched back. Or more accurately nothing had changed to begin with; he was still jobless and wasting away his hours in this hideout with people he was growingly convinced pitied him at best.

Zenigata loathed feeling like this; he knew this negativity wasn’t normal for him. The bitterness and grief he constantly felt had begun to sink into him and fester into a disease. It drained all his energy and made his mind apathetic to any wish to change things.

He’d do something, but he had no clue what that could possibly be.

He refused to ask for help; he wasn’t that desperate yet. Besides, he’d already burdened Lupin and his gang enough. They didn’t need the responsibility of coddling a depressed fool on top of that. He wasn’t even sure if they would allow him to stay if they knew how utterly broken he really was.

But he also couldn’t imagine leaving. Just walking out of this place and starting a new life? It seemed impossible.

Zenigata sighed. What a gentle trap he’d fallen into; it was the snare of good intentions, he supposed. Zenigata initially felt safe and warm in the little nook of Lupin’s hideout he’d carved for himself. Living with the enemy that he always dreamed to get closer to and understand was cathartic. Lupin’s attention was all he ever wanted. Now he saw the man every day, and not just in fleeting car chases or as flashed grins through sparking gunfire.

And Lupin. How _ironic_.

This was the first true act of compassion Lupin had ever shown him, and it was killing him slowly. It reminded him of a young child taking in an injured animal, trying to nurse it to good health. Good intentioned, but ultimately misinformed.

Still, he didn’t blame Lupin. How could he? The man had saved his life. It was a genuine gesture, he knew. Besides, he was aware the man had the emotional cognisance of a vanilla wafer from the first moment they met. It’s just how Lupin was; childlike and free from all of the burdens every other adult in the modern world had. Lupin lived in his own world; one he had created for himself. Others merely visited from time to time.

Grabbing the bottle of scotch, he shuffled out of the kitchen and made his way back to the same old couch he’d been sitting in for the past month. Looking at the equally nauseatingly familiar cream coloured walls of the living room, he realised that this was the longest he’d ever stayed in one place in, well, _years_. He hated it.

Bringing the drink to his lips, he didn’t even allow the smokey sweet liquid to hit his tongue; he simply tipped it down his throat.

 

————————-

 

_“Pops?”_

Zenigata blinked. Once. Twice. The action to his drunken brain seemed too laborious, so he decided to keep his eyes shut. At his lack of motion, he felt something nudge irritatingly at his shoulder.

“Oi, Old Man? C’mon, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

Zenigata let out a grunt in response. He _could_ and he _would_. The floor was solid and comfortable. It sucked him in like a vortex; he couldn’t move if he tried.

He heard quiet, deliberate steps walk up to his other side.

“Leave him.” A calm voice said. “I’ll wake him when he’s sobered.”

He felt the floor creak as someone stood.

“If you say so, Goemon.”

The weight of a blanket was carefully tossed over him, and as he felt himself being tucked in the warmth soon sent him back into unconsciousness.

 

————————-

 

When he awoke again, Zenigata was met with a wave of confusion.

Where was he? It definitely wasn’t the carpeted floor of the living room.

He groaned; how long had he been out?

More importantly; where had his bottle of scotch disappeared to? And when had it been replaced with the half eaten ham sandwich he clasped in his hand?

Letting his upper body flop into the hard white surface in front of him, he relished as it cooled his flushed, reddened face. The smell of a synthetic pine filled Zenigata’s nose and it made him feel nauseous.

Wait, _Pine._..?

Zenigata recoiled when he realised he was in the bathroom. As he lifted his head from the seat of the toilet, white blotches sparked in his eyes at the sudden motion. When his vision stabilised and returned to him, he let out a heavy sigh.

How had he wound up in this situation?

He just didn’t know.

Just like he didn’t know the moment his life had gone completely to shit. When he’d realised he’d been framed; the exact point that Interpol had thrown him under the bus. It all had blurred at this point.

He didn’t know why he was still here, with Lupin. Nothing was going to come out of it but misery, that much he knew.

He didn’t know how he was going to pull himself out.

He didn’t know _what to do._

_Urgh._ He needed to stop thinking for a while; it was starting to bring on a headache. Zenigata gripped his head as a loud buzzing began to ring inside his skull. With shaky legs, he pulled himself into a sitting position on the frame of the bathtub. Clamping sweaty palms onto the rim of the white frame, he realised he could feel tremors through the porcelain.

_Wait_.

That wasn’t just the alcohol; it was something external.

Standing up, he ignored the pulsating nausea as he threw himself in the approximate direction of the window to look out. As he gazed into the dark streets below, his brain struggled to process the sea of cars that were idling outside. They were unmarked, but it was clear to even the drunkest Zenigata that they were ICPO.

He felt his whole body kick into action; he had to warn the others.

“Lupin! _Lupin-_ “

Spinning around to the door, he reached for the handle. He needed to find Lupin and escape, fast.

Unfortunately his enebriated body had other ideas. It decided that it wanted to lay down for a while. A wave of dizziness hit him, and then Zenigata found himself on the floor. Pain shot through his chin and he could only let out a groan as the bathroom door slammed open.

Two officers stood before him, pistols raised. He didn’t move; he wasn’t sure if his body would even allow the luxury. The only acknowledgment that would have been seen by the two officers was the hot shame Zenigata felt flood to his reddened cheeks. He was going to be arrested drunk, disheveled and holding a ham sandwich on the bathroom floor of his sworn enemies hideout. Somehow, miraculously, he had managed to sink lower than he’d ever been before.

_What a way to go,_ Zenigata thought bitterly as he felt his body hoisted up by the two men. He took this opportunity to drop the sandwich. As they began to move, he noticed they were saying something to him. He couldn’t make it out. Maybe he just didn’t want to; they were either mocking him or telling him his rights. Both were things he already intimately familiar with; he didn’t some rookie cop telling him.

His thoughts scattered at the sound of distant gunfire. When one of the officers beside him hollered and pointed, he turned to look at what was causing the commotion. A yellow smudge stood out in his hazed vision. _Lupin_. The conman was turned away, half hanging out of an open window, frantically kicking away an officer that was hanging onto his legs.

With a final buck the policeman was out cold and Lupin was ready to jump out. At the sight, Zenigata was struck with a sudden rush of panic.

Lupin was leaving.

Goemon and Jigen were no doubt long gone, he wasn’t surprised about that. He didn’t expect any special treatment from those two; their mere tolerance of him had been more than gracious enough, all things considered.

But _Lupin._

_His anchor._

He was abandoning him?

Opening his mouth, Zenigata called out the man’s name. In his drunken stupor it hardly resembled words, but it served its purpose.

“Pops?”

Lupin turned back around.

Zenigata had got his attention.

With a giddy relief he saw the yellow blur dodge gunfire as it ran back down the hall. Soon he could make out the younger man’s panicked face. The police officers either side of him crumpled with Lupin’s sharp, sporadic blows and Zenigata eventually was standing on his own two shaky legs once more.

“Pops, there you are!” The man giggled, patting the back of the wobbly ex-Inspector. “When your passed out ass wasn’t in the lounge room, I thought they’d got you! We gotta-“

The sentence was cut short as a muted _‘thwunk’_ was heard to the left of them and a net shot into the air. It soon collided with Lupin, throwing him across the room in a violent tangle of rope and limbs. As the man wrestled and gnawed at his new trap (something Zenigata knew from experience would only leave Lupin ensnared for a handful of precious seconds) a hand gripped Zenigata’s coat. The sensation was accompanied by another wave of officers racing past him, circling both he and Lupin.

Backup had arrived.

As he gawked at the small army pouring into the tiny hideout, the mystery man behind him spoke up.

“I’m truly sorry about this, Sir.“

Blinding hot agony shot through him and he let out a mangled cry as he collapsed to his knees. His first thought was that he'd been shot, but he knew what that felt like.

This was _oh so worse._

Zenigata expected to feel this kind of sudden and treacherous pain at the hands of Lupin, if he was completely honest. But the thief was still on the ground, fumbling to free himself from the netting, all while glaring at the many rows of guns that were trained on him.

The pain finally withdrew and he let out a shaky breath.

A taser. That’s what it was.

It was electricity, but far more than what an average stun gun would put out, Zenigata was sure.

“L-Lupin…” Zenigata grit, reaching weakly in the man’s direction.

The name earnt him another zap. Lupin had almost clawed himself out of the net when the hot electricity pulsed into his body once again. As he felt his consciousness warp and dip, the hand on his coat settled to his lower back, almost cradling him sympathetically.

“I think it would be best if you came with me, Sir.”

That voice… It was familiar.

He knew why.

It was Tamare.

The electric baton finally left Zenigata’s body and he felt all of his muscles deflate in exhaustion as they finally went limp.

Zenigata then blacked out.

 

————————-

 

_“Mr. Zenigata?”_

_Oh_.

They were moving; he could feel it.

_“... Sir?”_

The road was _bumpy_. Zenigata didn’t like that. The motions made his insides slosh. It was probably even more intolerable now he was beginning to sober slightly; he could feel the pain blossoming in his stomach mix with the alcohol. It made for a heady concoction of regret all around.

_“I know you're awake._ Please don’t ignore me.” Tamare scolded. Not harshly, though. More like the disappointed chide of a school teacher who knew a student could do better if they just applied themselves.

That somehow made it all the more irritating, Zenigata realised.

Cracking an eye open, he was treated to the sight of his left hand handcuffed to the gearbox and Tamare sitting in the driver's seat beside him, seemingly towering next his crumpled form. No blue and red lights blinked through the windows. They weren’t being chased.

Tamare had got him.

“I’m not the enemy.” The Inspector sighed. “I want to _help_ you.”

From this position Zenigata could see right up the Frenchman’s nose. It didn’t really help to add any poignancy to his plea. Zenigata wondered if this is what Lupin saw every time he’d tried to pull the old _‘I just want to help you help yourself_ ’ cop lecture on him. Zenigata could only imagine what he looked like from this angle; just a sea of cleft chin and authoritarian nagging. No wonder Lupin never took him up on his offers of redemption and lighter sentences; Zenigata felt more patronised right now than he had his entire life.

So, he decided to voice that.

“Fuck off.” Zenigata croaked.

That got Tamare’s head to turn.

“Well, _bonjour_ to you too, Sir.”

“Where’s Lupin?”

The Inspector pulled a face of displeasure. “He… slipped away last minute. So did the other two.”

Zenigata grunted, pleased. “Yeah. They do that.”

He couldn’t lie; when he had seen all of those guns, he’d gotten nervous. Besides, it simply wouldn’t have been fair if Tamare had caught Lupin first try. No rookie deserved that honour.

His body lurched forward as they came to a stop. As Tamare turned off the engine, Zenigata pulled himself into a sitting position with a laboured heave. He looked out of the car, expecting to see the cold concrete building of the local police station. Instead, he was greeted with the dark silhouettes of trees and a long gravel road that appeared to wind infinitely into the pitch black night.

That wasn’t comforting.

“I needed somewhere private to discuss things with you.” Tamare explained, picking up on his hesitance.

“Then talk.” Zenigata grumbled as he rubbed his lower abdomen. God, his stomach _hurt_. Tamere wasn’t exactly winning him over by frying his still healing insides with some of the worst pain he’d felt in years.

“Alright; I will.”

Tamare unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted around to face him. The position was a little friendlier, Zenigata had to admit. It leaned into absurd when the inspector removed his gloves and fetched a thermos from his dash compartment. Tamare then started pouring a cup of its contents.

Zenigata didn’t need to ask what it was. The strong aroma of coffee filled his nose and his stomach churned in disapproval at the smell.

“Ngh- god. No.” Zenigata groaned.

Tamare looked up.

“No? With respect Sir, one thing I do remember about you is at the station you had always coffee in your hand-”

“I wasn’t drunk then! Nor had I been tasered multiple times like I was car trying to be jump started! You know how much that thing fucking hurts?”

Tamare had the gall to look apologetic as he placed the coffee filled mug in the cars cup holder.

“Sorry. I- usually with my special taser people faint right away. You took a lot to knockout.”

Zenigata had no response to such a stupid comment. Was he supposed to take that as a compliment? Leaning back in the seat, he closed his eyes. This kid had no clue. He had his big fancy toys and that was it; there was certainly no brain between those ears.

_Actually._

That did raise the question.

“How did you know where Lupin’s hideout was?”

“After you fled that cafe; I had a little guy follow your car. It was pretty easy to track a bright yellow fait. He took me all the way to your door.”

Zenigata scrunched his nose in confusion.

“A little guy?”

Tamare merrily pulled a device from the back seat. Zenigata sighed. Of course more gadgets were involved. It must have been a tiny drone, though he could see no propellers. The contraption fit snugly in Tamare’s hand.

He outstretched it, offering it to Zenigata.

“You want to hold it? It’s surprisingly light; the top of the range ICPO have right now-“

“-Only if you want me to throw it out this window.” Zenigata butt in.

Tamare shrunk back.

“R-right.”

As the expensive piece of hardware was lovingly returned to its case, Zenigata grew restless.

“Why am I here, Tamare? You obviously have no plans to arrest me.”

“Of course I don’t.” The man said, matter-of-factly. “I only arrest criminals. You’re the furthest thing from a criminal that I know, Sir.”

“Didn’t you hear?” Zenigata snarled. “I killed an Interpol Chief. I work for Lupin the third, now.”

“And I don’t believe either of those for a second!” Tamare asserted. “It’s obvious to any man with half a brain you were framed.”

While vindicating to hear, those words didn’t fill Zenigatas heart with anything than a dull apathy.

“And?” Zenigata shrugged. “What about it?”

“What about- we need to clear your name! Fix this injustice! Get you back on our side, where you belong! Look, I can help you find the people responsible and-“

“-I know who it was.”

Tamare blinked, visibly confused.

“If you know, then why don’t you bring that information forward to the police?“

“Because it was Interpol. They framed me.”

Zenigata could see it; the intermission between the moment those words reached the others ears, to the time it actually processed. Tamare’s face was like an open slideshow of surprise and disbelief.

“No.” Tamare shook his head. “Why would they-?”

“That.” Zenigata mused. “Is the real question.”

There was a pause as Tamare digested all he’d just heard. Zenigata took this opportunity to grab the cup of lukewarm coffee and take a sip. Now his stomach had settled slightly, it wasn’t all that bad.

“I don’t believe you.”

Zenigata shrugged.

“You don’t have to. In fact it would probably be better for your career if you didn’t.”

Another bout of silence followed and Zenigata could almost visualise the dark storm cloud gathering over Tamare’s head. This mustn’t have been the way he’d planned this conversation. Zenigata couldn’t feel too sympathetic. He found it almost impossible to imagine anything in his life going vaguely _right_. It happened so rarely, it was a miracle when it did.

If Tamare was now on the Lupin case, he should get used to this feeling; rejection and disappointment was all he had in his future.

“ _Get out_.”

Zenigata lowered the coffee cup from his lips, startled at Tamare’s cold tone.

“Wha-?”

The handcuff strapped to his wrist unfurled and tumbled to the floor. Tamare’s eyes never met with his.

“I’m giving you one last chance. Leave this car now, Sir.”

It was an order. Sensing this matter wasn’t up for debate, Zenigata fumbled with his seatbelt and opened the door, slipping out into the frigid night air.

Before he’d even fully exited, the car screeched to life, causing plumes of gravel dust to bellow into the air. Stumbling back, the car vanished.

As crickets chirped in the silent night. Zenigata realised he was alone drunk, in pain, and in the middle of nowhere.

He took a sip of coffee.

_What the hell was he going to do now?_

 

—————

 

“Cool your jets.”

“I will not!”

“ _Yes_ ,” Jigen snapped, wrestling the wheel from Lupin’s grasp, “-you will! Gonna kill us if you continue to drive like this.”

Lupin huffed, crossing his arms and sinking back further into the driver's seat. It wasn’t fair! Snatching a man up like that while he was at his lowest was petty, even for ICPO.

More than that, Lupin felt like a failure. After everything they had done to keep him safe, Pops was now in police custody.

Lupin frowned.

At least he _assumed_ he was. Lupin’s intel said Zenigata was never actually seen entering the police station. So where was Tamare taking him? Lupin could only pray Zenigata’s judgement of the Inspector’s character had been correct, and he wasn’t in danger.

“Lupin? You driving this thing or what?” Jigen snapped in a panic.

“You seemed eager enough.” Lupin drawled back prettily. “You do it.”

Jigen cursed, leaning in further to steer the wheel now completely under his control.

“M’ sure he’s around somewhere. That man’s as tough as nails.” Jigen grit. “Stop moping.”

“Well, he’s not at the station! And he sure isn’t at the hideout!”

“So, what are we meant to do, Lupin? Search the whole of France to find him?”

“Yes!”

The back seat squeaked as Goemon shifted.

“If that is the case; I’m leaving.” The samurai announced, throwing the back door of the moving vehicle wide open.

“ _Goemon_.” Jigen sighed. “We’re not actually combing the whole fucking country for the old man. Close the door.”

“We are!”

“We’re fucking not! Lupin, do you hear yourself? When did Zenigata become so important to you?”

Lupin swallowed his objections, his teeth colliding with a click.

He knew he was being unreasonable. Of course he knew that. But the sinking feeling he had in his stomach was very much real. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He had become infatuated with the idea of Pops being by his side.

Zenigata was a part of their group; he just hadn’t told him yet. And if someone stopped that from ever happening - if they had  _hurt_  Zenigata.

There would be hell to pay.

“I’m making an executive decision.” Jigen announced, slowing the fiat to a roll as he turned into a car park. “We get something to eat; then we think about what we’re actually doing to do. Ok?”

Lupin nodded.

Goemon closed the door, seemingly satisfied with the arrangement also.

“That seems reasonable.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this is one long ass chapter bc I didn’t know where to end it/ what parts to cut out. Sorry in advance lmao, feel free to skim.

Like most of the other times in his life when he’d been directionless, Lupin soon found the universe gave him a reason to burst into motion. Before they’d even gotten comfy in the corner booth of the small take away joint, his phone buzzed. Pulling it out and tapping the screen, he frowned at the new notification that lit up.

He had received a message.

The text wasn't from anyone he knew, which was rare on its own. Few were knowledgeable of his personal contact details. It was a local number though, judging from the ‘06’ plastered at the beginning.

Clicking on it, he felt a shiver of dread go down his spine.

 

_44°32'16.5"N_

_0°10'02.3"W_

_Get there fast._

 

Shit.

 _Coordinates_ . When Lupin got those, nine times out of ten it lead to disaster. When he thought of all the places he had wound up at the suggestion of a careless string of numbers, they had never been good. Those numbers were a place of rest for sunken treasure after a failed heist. It was a line of square jawed lackeys standing on a long stretch of road, insisting to settle it _there_ and _then_.

It was a dead body tangled over itself like a knotted garden hose, shoved carelessly into a trunk.

“What’s that look for?” Jigen asked, plonking himself down on the wine red leather stool. “That better not be Fujiko texting you.”

“It’s not.” Lupin sighed. If it was, he wouldn’t be feeling so shitty.

Jigen looked up from the laminated menu in his hands.

“Then what is it?”

Unsure of what to say, Lupin slid his phone across the scuffed faux marble table and let it slow to a stop in front of Jigen and Goemon. The two peeked over the glowing rectangle in unison.

“Ah. Fuck.” Jigen murmured.

“Indeed.” Goemon agreed grimly.

As the three looked at the phone tenstley, Jigen spoke what they were all thinking.

“Do you think… it’s the old man? Telling you where he is?” 

“He does always seem to know your number.” Goemon offered optimistically.

Lupin shrugged. It didn’t feel right; Pops would just ring; he always did prefer to talk one on one. He rarely texted unless necessary. And he certainly wasn’t the type to be this _cryptic_. He’d at least leave a name. Was it Tamare’s doing? Was he trying to lure him out with Pops? Or perhaps they didn’t manage to fully dispose of the group tasked with Zenigata’s murder, and the stragglers were out for revenge?

None of the options were particularly nice to dwell on.

“Dunno.” Lupin sighed. “I think it definitely has something to do with Pops-“

He picked up the phone, snapping the two other men out of their trance. 

“-but this message wasn’t sent by him. Though mark my words, I'm going to see what’s there, with or without you guys.”

As Lupin prepared to dig his heels in, Jigen stood up with a sigh.

“Alright. Let’s see where the hell those numbers go.”

Lupin looked at the man, surprised. That was… easy? Too easy. His confusion heightened when Goemon mirrored the action, rising noiselessly from his seat. Weren’t they both pissed with him just a few minutes ago?

“Really? I don’t have to convince you? Even a little bit? It could be a death trap.” Lupin turned to the gunman. “Didn’t you say we should give it a rest?”

“I said I wasn’t gonna go driving around France on a fucking wild goose chase, Lupin.” Jigen corrected. “And I stand by that. But we know where we’re going now. B’sides, that hot head of yours has cooled a little. If it is a death trap, we shouldn’t get killed immediately anymore.”

“Goemon?”

“Whatever lies at that location is no match for my blade. They will regret summoning me.”

Lupin felt a smug grin tug at his lips. Couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Alright then.” Lupin laughed, waving the two other over as he strode to the exit. “Onwards! To an ominous location that could mark our deaths!”

 

—————-

 

Trees, zipping past the car in a smear. That’s all Lupin had been seeing for the last thirty minutes. Any nerves or worries had long caved to a restless energy. He almost was wanting a line of pissed off thugs at this point; it would at the very least be something to focus on.

Shuffling up, he attempted to peek out of the car window.

“Lupin! Keep your fucking head down!” Jigen grumbled.

“But I wanna see!” Lupin whined back, wrestling as Goemon placed a firm hand on the top of his head and pushed him back down.

“There’s nothing to see! Just a bunch of trees and road.” Jigen sighed. “You sure this is the right spot?”

“Actually, the coordinates location was a tiny bit back there-“ Lupin gestured at an equally dull patch of road behind him.

Jigen rolled to a stop. With a cuss, he parked the car. The high beams were flicked on, allowing them to see into the inky black night. “Nothing over there. Nothing here either.” Jigen grumbled. “Why the hell would someone send us out to the middle of nowhere?”

“I dunno.” Lupin mused. “But I think some good old fashioned groundwork is in order.”

Before anyone could protest, Lupin lithely slipped out of the back seat and bolted into the open countryside. It was cold and he tugged his jacket tighter to his torso as he waded through the unkempt grass at the side of the road.

“Lupin! It could be a trap!” Jigen shouted from the driver seat he was desperately squirming out of.

“Then cover me!” Lupin grinned back, as he turned his sights to some especially long grass. “What do you think I pay you boys for?”

“We’re not being paid.” Goemon grimly reminded, joining Lupin’s side. “... We haven’t received our cut for the last heist yet.”

“Oh yeah.” Lupin sheepishly laughed. “To be fair I haven’t got anything yet either. We gotta get it out of the country first.” _A sloppy oversight._ Lupin scolded himself. He usually would have wrapped up this job weeks ago, had it been any other time. But lately his thoughts had been so absorbed with Pops he couldn’t even think straight. And boy, wasn’t that a strange realisation.

Lupin shook his brain back to the present, focusing on his current task. He certainly couldn’t think about pay now, as he waded through the grass of a rural French paddock, expecting to see a glimpse of an arm of leg at any moment. There was something here, Lupin knew. If it didn’t greet them on arrival, then maybe it didn’t have the capacity to move anymore.

 _Cmon, Pops._ Lupin shivered, silently praying into the shimmering overgrowth. _You’ve taken tumbles worse than this before. Don’t let this be the end of you._ Swinging a leg over some wooden fencing, the thief continued his venture outwards, swatting at the large reeds of grass that filled his path with a growing frustration.

“Goemon, can you do more unpaid labor and cut some grass?” Lupin batted at the offending foliage. “I can’t look for shit like this.”

Before the samurai could get into position, Jigen spoke up.

“Hey! What’s over there? By that tree?” 

“There are many trees.” Goemon chastely reminded, sheathing his sword. “Which one?”

“The big maple closest to the road, smartass. _That one._ ” Jigen pointed as he started walking towards it. “It looks like- it’s grey? Something is in the grass.”

Whipping his head around, Lupin squinted through the grainy light to try and catch a glimpse of what Jigen was pointing at. His eyes widened when he indeed spotted a fleck of grey through the green foliage.

“Woah- what _is_ that?” Lupin said, stumbling in its direction.

Jigen only just beat Lupin to the mystery object with his slow saunter, despite their wide distance. As Lupin’s long legs hurriedly closed the gap, the gunman picked it up and set to work shaking off the dew and mud.

“It’s a hat. Nice n’ new. Definitely hasn’t been sitting here long.”

Lupin frowned as the object was passed to him. It wasn’t just _any_ hat. It was made of a light grey wool, with a brown leather band. He pushed the object back into Jigen’s hands. “It’s Pops hat. The one I bought him.” 

“... Thought it looked familiar.” Jigen looked up from the hat to Lupin, his stare growing soft. “ _Lupin-_ ”

“Don’t give me that tone! This is good!-” Lupin insisted. _It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to admit that._ “-It means Pops has been here! It means we’re on the right track.”

Jigen looked as unconvinced as Lupin secretly felt, but nodded anyway. “Sure. So what’s the next step, Boss?”

“We look for Pops, of course! He only could have gone in two directions. That way-” Lupin gestured to the stretch of road they had driven in on, “-or that way.” Lupin turned to the road they were facing, yet to be ventured by the trio. 

“Well, when you put it that way.” Jigen replied dryly. “Sounds simple.”

“If we keep following the road, it will lead to a small village. It’s close and could easily be reached on foot. Even by a hungover middle aged man. My bet is Zenigata is there.”

Lupin spun around to face the two men once more.

“Jigen? You’ll come with me and suss out the locals, hopefully one of them has seen Pops. Goemon can stay here and scan the area for- well just in case- _youknow-_ “ Lupin swallowed. He couldn’t say it aloud. “Anything else Pops may have left behind. Like a shoe. A coat.”

The samurai gave him a confused look. “Why would I do that? That’s no use of my skills.”

Lupin cursed inwardly. Goemon never was the most astute.

“Think he means Pops might attached to that shoe or coat, Goe.” Jigen lit a cigarette and took a puff. “You're on body searching duty. Pray you don’t find anything.”

Lupin almost flinched as how sharp those words felt. Jigen was as blunt as always. 

“Ah. I understand now.” The samurai said, a light red dusting his cheeks. “I will do that. Both the looking… and the praying. ”

With a dutiful bow Goemon departed solemnly, walking into the slowly waving grass. Lupin, feeling like a gutted fish made his way to the fiat, slipping back into the driver's seat.

“Right.” Lupin muttered to himself as he fired up the ignition and slapped his hands into the steering wheel. “ _Onwards_.”

 

————————

 

“Es-tu installé confortablement?” The old woman asked, leaning on the doorframe. “... Bien?”

Zenigata gave a panicked smile from the technicolor knitted blanket strapped under his chin. It had little daisies crocheted onto it, wilted and malformed from decades of repeated washing and use. He picked at the pilled yarn nervously as he tried to piece together what she was saying.

 _Confortablement_. It meant comfortable. He knew that one. 

 _Bien_. That meant good.

Was she asking if he was comfortable? Good? 

Nodding as much as the three pillows tucked under his head would allow, he was relieved when she seemed sated. Maybe now she would finally leave him in peace. Zenigata tested the bedding, wriggling his legs. They moved very little. This woman really didn’t want him getting away, did she? The woollen sheets were strapping him to the single guest bed tighter than some military level restraints he’d been in.

As she finally left, he let out a sigh of relief. He shouldn’t be so harsh. This woman _had_ helped him, after all. She didn’t have to take in a strange man who had stumbled in from the wilderness, hungover and half tasered to death, but she had.

But she’d also _insisted_ he have a meal, shower, and rest before he leave. All of which came quite a shock to him, due to the language barrier. Even without a shared language though, he still managed to piece together from the faded pictures in the hall and slightly dusty guest room that the old lady was most likely on her own, and had been for some time.

It was a situation he could sympathise with, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. He needed to find Lupin, before he slipped out of his reach once more.

A dull buzz wrang out through the room, pulling him from his thoughts. Turning to the source, he noticed a glow emanating from one of his coat pockets.  

Wrestling his way out of the bedding (his tired limbs protesting at the surprisingly laborious task as he did so) he got up and plodded across the old floorboards to his coat hanging on a peg by the door. Plunging a hand into the pocket, his face twisted into confusion when he pulled out a phone. When had someone snuck this in? Had it been Lupin?

Excited, he swiped the screen.

His joy fell when he realised who had really planted the phone on him.

The background was the ICPO logo. The phone also seemed to be modified, judging by the strange square protrusion he could feel with his fingers on the reverse side. No doubt some security measure. Navigating his way to the texts, he scanned the message that had been sent to him.

 

_Notified Lupin the third of your location. Stay put, Sir._

_-T_

 

Wait.... What? T?

Was this really from Inspector Tamare?

A million questions surged through Zenigata’s mind. Why would Tamare do this? Was Lupin really coming? _If so, how_ did Tamare do this? If he had Lupin’s contact information, why wasn’t he trying to capture him? What did this message contextually even mean? After the cold shoulder earlier, Zenigata was beyond confused. Not sure of how to express his utter dumbfoundment in any other way, he simply typed back:

 

_whyy_

Zenigata cursed at his sausage fingers. He’d typed only one word and had still managed to fuck it up. Nevertheless he got a quick reply.

 

_If your claims are true, you’re in more danger than I anticipated, Sir. We need to start being smarter in our communication. Sneakier. I WILL get you out of this situation and I WILL bring Lupin the third to justice. All in due time._

_For now you should stay put. I’ve experienced first hand how overzealous Lupin and his gang are to protect you. Better than any safehouse I could recommend. Lupin’s capture can be postponed until we figure something out. I will do some research of our options and get back to you soon._

_-T_

 

He scanned over the small essay that had been sent. Pops let out a sigh; it seemed Tamare still had his sights set on helping him. What a _good_ man. It just made Pops worry for both of them. Tamare was a little naive, but had the kind of drive that could get an officer far in this line of work. Zenigata wouldn’t want the Inspector’s career - or worse, his life - to come to a horrific halt just for him, an old washed up fool. He began tapping away his reply:

 

_no you wont!! I can fight my own battles. Don’t forget I'm tougher bastard than you, Tamare_

 

He hit send and stared at the screen, expecting another hefty helping of Tamare’s unsolicited opinions. Sure enough, he received them.

 

_With all due respect, I doubt it._

_But by all means, feel free to test that ‘tough bastard’ status with the boys down at the station. That is if you’re sober enough to stand upright._

_-T_

 

Before Zenigata could even attempt to calm himself, the phone had been flung across the room. It collided against the wall with a loud smack and tumbled onto the floor. To both his relief and disdain, the phone was seemingly unscathed from the impromptu tantrum, screen still glowing uncracked and bright. Zenigata let out a huff. The nerve of this kid! Did he think he was some washed up drunk that couldn’t even fight his own battles anymore?

 _He could still hold his own,_ zenigata assured himself though a heavy haze of self doubt. 

He could. 

He just _wasn’t_. 

It was a choice.

Flopping himself back down onto the lumpy guest bed, he turned his back away from the device. He wasn’t going to justify Tamare’s remark with a response. And the phone? That damn thing could stay there until he felt like picking it up, or Lupin arrived; if he was really coming. Whichever happened first.

Closing his eyes, Zenigata allowed himself to fall into a shallow sleep.

 

————

Lupin knocked on the door to the small cottage. When no one answered, he knocked harder. He knocked with one hand, then two. Eventually he gave up with niceties, and began to bang his clenched fist on the wood.

“Hey! I see your lights are on!” He hollered in French through the mail slot. “Don’t make this difficult!”

“This person better have seen him, or I’m gonna start shooting at things.” Jigen grumbled around his cigarette. “I know Zenigata is here somewhere; I can _sense_ him. When the old man is around I get a real persistent itch at the back of my neck.”

“You’re telling me.” Lupin sighed, scratching his cheek idly. This was the seventh house they’d tried and still _nothing_. It was getting annoying. How far had Pops wandered? Had he wandered? Lupin stomped down the doubt in his brain.

Eventually the door creaked open hesitantly, and an old woman poked her head out. Lupin let out a dramatic sigh of relief. He was just about to let himself in.

“O-Oui? You gentlemen need anything?“ the woman wearily asked.

“Madame! A man. About this tall-“ Lupin gestured high over his own head, waving his hand in a chopping motion.”-cranky. _Drunk_. Wearing a green suit. Have you seen him?”

The woman clamped up, as her hand started tapping nervously on the old wood door.

“You’re... friends?” She asked cautiously.

A smile grew on Lupin’s face. 

 _Bingo! Found you, Pops._  

“She knows something.” Lupin whispered in Japanese to Jigen.

“Mrh. I knew it.” 

“Yeah! He’s certainly something like that.” Lupin replied sweetly to the lady, as Jigen roughly pushed his way through the doorway. The old lady squeaked indignantly at the treatment. Once inside, Jigen began to scan every inch of the house. 

Lupin also merrily passed the disgruntled woman. The thief stopped when he hit the living room. “Pops? _Zenigata_?” Lupin hollered, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Where are you?”

“Are these the old man’s?” The gunman asked Lupin from the kitchen. Lupin turned, just in time to see him emerge from a crouched position behind the dining table. Jigen was holding a pair of brand new dress shoes, waggling them in the air.

“Yep! They sure are.” Lupin ran over and snatched the shoes out of Jigen’s hands. He could feel the excitement bubbling up within him. Just this once, maybe coordinates _wouldn’t_ lead him to disaster. Maybe it would turn out fine.

Suddenly, footsteps. Lupin could head them behind him. Shoeless and heavy, plodding on the carpet with a sleepy saunter.

“What’s going on- _Lupin_?”

 _That voice_. His French name, sounding delightfully butchered by Zenigata’s thick Japanese accent; something he never shook despite being Interpol for so long. It sounded borderline cherubic to his ears. 

The thief spun around to see Pops standing in the hallway. Truely a vision of clueless dishevelment, he had his jacket and coat removed, a few buttons of his shirt popped, and his sleeves scrunched up like little accordions around his elbows. The man’s hair poked out in random licks, indicating he’d been lying down. Lupin looked on, mesmerised, as Pops rubbed at this eyes. Apparently while Lupin was out here losing his mind, Zenigata had been sleeping off his hangover, content and safe. 

“There you are, you _bastard_.” Lupin laughed as he dropped the shoes and rushed to the man’s side. Happy to push the images of cold bodies in fields out of his mind for good, Lupin clapped a hand on the man’s shoulders. 

“Lupin!” Zenigata beamed. “You’re safe.”

“Of course! Why would I be anything else?”

Lupin squawked as he was wrestled into a crushing hug. Pops was warm, soft, and had taken on the smell of whatever musty guest bed he’d been napping in. Easily a head taller than Lupin, the thief found himself nestled directly into Zenigata’s chest. Not exactly a bad place to be, all things considered. He’d much prefer some busty woman, but there was something to be said about a well toned man, too. Lupin hummed in contentment as he placed his left hand beside his head, enjoying the feeling of hard muscle under his fingertips as he did so. 

He then gave pops pectoral an appreciative grope.

“L-Lupin!” Zenigata sputtered, now wide awake. He recoiled at the thief’s wandering hands, and Lupin giggled in response.

“What? I spent all night looking for you. Thanks to your drunk ass, we gotta find a new hideout. Consider that a part of your payment.” Lupin mock leered, mimicking a grabby motion with his hand.

A crimson blush filled Zenigata’s face, and the man glanced away whilst muttering something about finding his coat. Lupin took the opportunity to quietly withdraw his right hand from Pops shoulder.

Not that Zenigata had noticed it was there, but Lupin didn’t want him asking questions. 

The truth was Lupin had placed a tracker on the back of Zenigata’s neck while his other hand was getting frisky. Keeping tabs on him was something he should have done from the start, really. It would have saved them this whole run around, that was for sure. Lupin could have just followed a blip on the radar and called it a day, rather than the meltdown that had happened instead.

In that moment he caught Jigen’s eyes, which stared at him in quiet judgement. Even from underneath the shadowy brim, Lupin could see them silently asking _‘what the fuck was that?_ ’. Lupin signed the signal for ‘tracking device’ and pointed to Zenigata - who was still trying to avoid eye contact by ‘looking’ for his ‘coat’. Understanding, Jigen settled and gave a nod.

He still didn’t look entirely convinced, though.

Lupin could only give a smarmy shrug. Sure, any distraction would have done - a discrete signal to Jigen would have told the man to create just the right diversion to place the tracker. He could have waited until Pops fell asleep. But hey; this was the option Lupin enjoyed better.

Lupin grinned at Zenigata’s bright red face, relishing the sight. 

“So, are ya gonna tell us where the hell you got dragged off too?” Jigen muttered, in an attempt to break the tension.

“Wha-“ zenigata looked at the gunman, clearing his throat and composing himself. The blush stubbornly remained, however. “Oh… yes. Tamare pushed me out of his cop car and abandoned me here hours ago.” 

Lupin scrunched his face, confusion taking over. “That’s what happened? He just… kicked you out? For no reason? Geez, talk about mixed signals. Raids our hideout, separates us, then sets you free?” Lupin blinked. Wait, had Tamare been the one to forward him the coordinates? He must have been. Unsease filled the thief; something wasn’t adding up in this equation. “...He led us straight to you again. Why?”

“He’s harmless.” The ex cop assured. 

Lupin scoffed. That wasn’t an answer. And even if it was, Lupin wouldn’t call a man with an extensive arsenal of hi-tech weapons and an entire force of Interpol officers at his disposal exactly harmless. But then again with the questionable company Pops consistently kept, maybe that _was_ his definition of harmless? Pops was a pretty atrocious judge of character. How many of his fellow ICPO officers had screwed him over in some way? It seemed to happen every other week. 

But more importantly, Lupin didn't trust how his epiphany hadn’t come as a surprise to Zenigata. 

It meant he knew.

“Tamare is in over his head.” Zenigata sighed. “ I think he’s starting to realise that now.”

“Over his head? Precisely in what way?” Lupin crossed his arms. “And with whom? Me… or _you_?”

Zenigata looked down at the floor and Lupin could see the hesitance painted all over the older man’s face. Lupin could slap him. _Too damn trusting._ He really wanted to protect this new Inspector, didn’t he? Lupin looked Zenigata over again, more analytically this time. Apart from a lone coffee stain on the front of his shirt, nothing was new from when he'd last seen him dragged unconscious from their hideout. 

Wait.

 _Wait_.

What was that bulge in his trouser pocket? It was most likely either a phone or some sort of notebook, judging by the rectangular outline. But he was also aware to push the topic would just make Pops clam up and get defensive.  Lupin’s mouth settled into thin and frustrated line. He’d do some snooping in his own time.

“Speaking of cops; let's get out of here.” Jigen butt in, walking over to the pair. “Probably drew some attention knocking door to door to find the old man in the first place.” 

“R-Right.” Zenigata agreed with a curt nod. “You know, I really am sorry for causing so much trouble.”

“Trouble? You?” Jigen drawled sarcastically. “ _Never_.” 

Zenigata mumbled his surprised thanks when the gunman pushed his shoes into his chest. Taking the hint, Pops scrambled to the floor and set to work slipping them on. “Alright.” Zenigata shot up dutifully, shoes now tied up. “Let’s go.”

As they all turned to leave, they were all greeted with the old woman standing in the middle of her hallway, confused beyond belief.  Not completely clueless, she held Zenigata’s coat and jacket expectantly in her hands. Lupin stared at the woman. She blinked back. Oh yeah... He’d completely forgotten about her.

“Lupin-“ Zenigata started behind him. “This woman took me in. Can you thank her in French? I’d try, but… _well. You’ve heard my French.”_

Lupin shrugged. That was simple enough. “Yeah, sure-“

“Also, can you say her stew was really good? Oh! And I want you to apologise for barging in. You probably scared the daylights out of her!”

“Alright! Ok.” With a sigh, Lupin obliged.

 

——————-

 

As the car rolled down the narrow gravel road, Lupin scanned the area with keen eyes. Things had turned out well. Too well, actually. He didn’t trust it one bit. Not Tamare, not ICPO. Not Pops, all big puppy eyes and strange bulges as he trusted the organisation that had screwed him over. None of it.

“ _Holy shit.”_ He heard Jigen quietly gasp from beside him, followed by a creak as the gunman shifted from his recline in the passenger's seat.

“What is it?” Lupin asked, although a simple peek out the side window answered the question.The fields of once long, overgrown reeds had been cut down to tiny flecks. The now manicured grass stretched for miles, or certainly as far as Lupin’s eyes could see in the dark. Lupin spun around, to realise it was exactly the same on the other side of the road.

“Whoa. This was all overgrown fields when I came in.” Zenigata mumbled, eyes wide. “I wonder who's responsible?”

Lupin shook his head fondly. “That’s Goemon for ya. Never does things in half.” Lupin watched in the rear-view mirror at Pops surprised expression.

“Goemon?” Zenigata leaned closer into the window, taking in the sight. “Why would he be cutting entire fields of grass at this hour of the morning?”

“He was looking for something.” Jigen said.

Zenigata took in the sight with bewilderment. “What was he looking for?”

“ _You_ , silly.” Lupin chuckled. “We found your hat in a field over there and- well. _Yeah_.” He enjoyed the look of soft awe that settled on Pop's face. The man was clearly touched, and his eyes were turning glassy with the suggestion of tears. Lupin wondered if he would start crying.

As they drove closer to their meetup point, Lupin caught sight of the samurai standing as still as a stone by the side of the road. Lupin rolled to a stop, allowing the man to slink into the backseat alongside Pops. As he shifted into a sitting position, Goemon cracked an eye open, taking in the man besides him. 

“You’re safe... _Good_.” 

A dry bark of laughter came from Jigen as the car began to move again.

“Goemon cuts half the damn grass in France and that’s his reaction to us bringing back the old man in one peice? _Good_?”

Lupin grinned. “Hey, Jigen. Remind me next time the press catches me stealing another priceless piece to just say “good” into the cameras and then flee. Think that's gonna be my new catchphrase.”

“Ha! Only If when I save your ass next, I hear at least one solid ‘good’ from you.”

Lupin snorted, enjoying how delightfully red the samurai was turning behind him. Pops was looking out the window almost bashfully, apparently not wanting in on this goldmine of embarrassment. “I dunno man. That’s pretty intimate. How about an ‘okay’ instead?”

“We’ve known each other for how long? And I’m only an ‘okay’?” Jigen muttered with disdain, his grin giving away any sincerity. “You fucking wound me, Arsène Lupin the third.”

“Hey! C'mon now-“ Lupin giggled, scanning over the empty road before turning the car back onto the highway. His numb behind thanked the distinct lack of bumpiness now they were on smooth asphalt. “We can’t all be Goemon, throwing around the word ‘good’ like it’s nothing. I’m a bachelor, Jigen. You understand.”

Jigen fondly shook his head in response, lighting up a cigarette.

As the car drifted into a comfortable silence, Lupin thought about his next move. They couldn’t go back to their previous hideout, but it was also impossible to just flee the country quite yet; he still had business to tie up. And by god was he going to tie those ends up. If this little scare had taught him anything, it was that he couldn’t just wait around. Fate could rip this opportunity from his hands at any time, so he needed to seize it while he still could. He was gonna get that money, get the fuck out of here and move into his next heist. More importantly, he was going to get Pops on board by then.

So. A new hideout was needed.

It left him with limited options. Some nicer than others. The closest safe house he had was a shack about an hour from here, but it was _tiny_. Miserably small, really. Four men living within its walls would be madness, if not impossible. Then there was the manor. A lovely cottage style mansion tucked away in the wilderness between France and Italy. With plenty of guest rooms, Pops would finally have a bed of his own. 

And a heated pool.

And a _gym_.

Lupin sighed wistfully. He didn’t consider himself a spoilt brat. In fact for a man that loved the finer things, he sure spent a lot of time in some pretty shitty places. But he couldn’t deny he’d been missing that touch of luxury in his life. Mind made up, Lupin settled into his seat. He must have had a certain look in his eye, because Jigen soon spoke up.

“Gonna be a long drive, Boss?” 

“Yeah. You can take a nap if you want.”

Not needing any further encouragement, the gunman tipped his hat over his face and lounged back in his seat with content puff of his cigarette.

 

——————

 

When they finally reached their new hideout many hours later, the fanfare wasn’t quite as gratifying as Lupin had hoped. Goemon and Jigen wordlessly shuffled out of the car and to their rooms, dismissively waving off Lupin’s offers to have a nightcap before they all turned in for the night - or morning, more accurately - as it was almost five am.

Pops, while clearly taken aback by the looming silhouette of large mansion, didn’t seem to quite grasp the buildings scale. Or if he did, he certainly didn’t show it. His lack of a response had taken the wind out of Lupin’s sails, but he was understanding. How could Pops know it’s true magnificence? It was pitch black outside. Any amazing first impressions had been dashed thanks to that. 

Spirits not dampened, Lupin had attempted to show him around. However when the grand reveal of swimming pool had been met with a loud yawn (followed by a sheepish apology) he realised Pops, whilst unharmed, was just as tired and drained as the others, but unlike them too indebted to tell him to simply fuck off.

Admitting defeat, he’d led Zenigata to his bedroom. It was a large suite upstairs and usually the room Lupin picked when he stayed here. At the sight of the large king size bed, Pops face had lit up brighter than anything else he’d shown him that night. And even then, it was about as luminous as the LEDs you got sometimes on birthday cards. As Zenigata departed and the door gently clicked shut, Lupin let out a grumble.

A four hour long drive for... whatever that reaction was.

Lupin pouted at the door to the bedroom, hoping his childish misery would seep through the walls to the man inside.

Usually Pops would jump at a taste of luxury! Lupin thought back to their few temporary truces, filled with fine steaks and cushy hotel rooms. It really didn’t take much to get Zenigata all shiny eyed and placated. One would almost say he was easily bribed. The man existed off ramen and bitter failure, after all. Anything was a step up.

Lupin sighed.

But that wasn’t his Zenigata anymore, was it? It hadn’t been for quite some time. Had anything improved in the  month he had been with the gang? It didn’t feel like it. Seemingly with the tiniest step of improvement, there would be an equally devastating low where Pops would snap back to his new withdrawn, depressed norm. It reminded him of how Pops would act after he faked his death for the umpteenth time. Lupin was still very much here, but the lack of a grandiose life goal Zenigata would just wilt.

It shouldn’t have been a revelation realising Pops wasn’t the simple creature Lupin had always jokingly pigeon holed him as. He wasn’t some loyal dog or puppet. He was a man who had complex needs, that unlike Lupin’s, couldn’t just be sated with fine food, even finer women, money and booze.

He needed more. It _sucked_.

Lupin was really hoping everything would just slot nicely into place when it came to Zenigata. That if he laid the groundwork, Lupin could just let the universe do its thing and eventually Zenigata would fall into his lap, a well adjusted criminal companion. Loyal. Dutiful. He could even keep those handcuffs if he wanted. All of the traits Zenigata had been as a cop, but now directed towards Lupin and his thief work.

That was the dream, wasn’t it? The concept that excited him, perhaps a bit too much at times. But that wasn’t going to happen; not with this shattered, self-doubting Zenigata. There was no way this man would tread on anyone’s toes or impose on the gangs existing hierarchy. 

Zenigata wouldn’t just invite himself into the group like a Lupin was counting on him doing. He needed that push.

Shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie, Lupin let out a frustrated huff. Making his way back to his own quarters, he thought about the impossibly irritating situation. How typical. Only pops could make his perfectly laid plans get this stuck. Even if he wasn’t chasing him around anymore, the man could still manage to put a wrench in everything. 

 

—————

 

“Woah!” Lupin laughed, watching the flipped crepe slip perfectly back into the pan. “Goe, you see that? Have I got skills or what?”

His laugh intensified as he could practically feel Goemon’s sleepy, unimpressed eyes on his back from his seat at the kitchen table. Slipping the warm crepe onto a plate with the others, he glanced out the window. From his position, he got a clear view of the front of the mansion, including the deck. It was a large expanse of cherry hardwood. Pops looked tiny and aimless as he wandered around on it.

Lupin grin faltered, realising they’d have to have a chat at some point today. It couldn’t be put off any longer, and Lupin didn’t want to anyway. It was like a bandaid, it needed to be ripped off quickly, before it could antagonise him any more.

_Just ask him to stay. He’ll say yes; you know he will._

Looking back down to his cooking, he slipped more batter into the pan. It was the perfect amount, and Lupin was quietly pleased. Lupin’s mind and hands were usually pretty good companions. He was dexterous, quick and knew how to use those traits to his advantage; be that in the battlefield or the bedroom.

Lupin’s brain and mouth however? Those two had a slightly more terse relationship. 

Things would be going great, but then he’d mention something that fucked everything. He’d either say too much too loudly, to the point everyone told him to shut up, or not say enough. The words would get stuck inside his throat, even when his brain was screaming _to say something. Anything._  

Lupin wasn’t good with the mushy stuff. He knew this.

Sure, the ‘I love yous’ came easy when Fujiko was there looking like a goddess and draping over him like a warm, blissful shroud, but outside of that? Radio static. He never knew what to say when Jigen was having one of his grey days, or Goemon was enraged at his lack of moral compass. So, he usually didn’t say anything. He’d let them storm out, leave. Get angry at his lack of compassion. They’d come back eventually, they always did, but sometimes he wished he could just figure out what to say to stop that from happening in the first place. 

Lupin jumped as he felt something brush against his arm. Goemon shifted closer as he reached across the counter for a second helping.

“You are jumpy.” Goemon commented, as he plopped a generous scoop of jam onto a crepe. “Are you still tense from what happened last night?”

“Hmm.” Lupin replied lacklusterly, as his eyes drifted back to Pops. The man was trying to light the fire pit outside to little success. Even from this distance, Lupin could see a violent frustration in his motions.

“Zenigata seemed angry this morning.” Goemon tried again, following Lupin’s gaze. “I heard yelling coming from his room.”

Lupin turned to the samurai, his comment getting the thief’s attention. “Really? You know who he was yelling at?”

“If it wasn’t you or me, It must have been Jigen.”

Lupin scrunched his nose. Something strange was going on between those two; he’d have to keep an ear out.

 

—————-

 

Zenigata fumbled to light his morning cigarette, fingers stiffened from the cold. Eventually succeeding, he relished the victory by taking a long drag. Finding a comfortable deck chair Zenigata sat down and looked out over the picturesque scenery laid in front of him. It was all mountains and lush foliage as far as the eye could see. The air held a frosty chill, so a foggy mist had settled in halos around the mountains.

He certainly hadn’t seen any of this last night. The view was _breathtaking_. It almost calmed the storm of rage that crashed around in his mind. 

 _Almost_. 

Not quite.

Zenigata shook his head, still in disbelief at what he’d awoken to a few hours ago: Jigen, standing at the end of his bed, methodically combing through his coat pockets. When confronted, Jigen had shrugged it off as trying to find a light. It was said coolly; casually. Like the gunman always appeared to be - at least on the surface. In his sleepy haze, everything had checked out. Awake Zenigata knew that was _bullshit,_ however. Absolute garbage. They were in a damn mansion, he was sure Jigen didn’t need to sneak into his room to find a light.

Besides, Zenigata always kept his zippo in his breast pocket, not his coat. It stopped apprehended criminals grabbing for it - well ones that weren’t handsy little shits like Lupin the third, at least. Jigen knew this also. Perhaps not the reasoning behind it, but they smoked together every fucking day. He’d seen him take it out enough times.

More than that, even half asleep and feeling like shit, the ex-inspector still had caught Jigen’s fingers briefly wrapped around Zenigata’s own police issue pistol, before hastily shoving it back into the sea of dark grey fabric when they had locked eyes.

Jigen had smartly fled before Zenigata could fully wake up and kick his ass.

It was a large, completely foreign house to Zenigata and Jigen was a trained assassin, so he had disappeared pretty quickly. If Jigen wanted to avoid him; he would not be found. It was as simple as that.

So now Zenigata was left alone to mull over what had happened.

After his first knee jerk thought that Jigen was trying to bump him off, more practical theories took its place. With the event of his missing weapons earlier in the week, a picture soon formed. At least now he knew who had stolen his gear and tucked it away in Lupin’s study. But why? Didn’t Jigen trust him?

The thought stung. The two certainly weren’t friends, but Zenigata had felt the gunman had softened to him slightly these past few weeks. He could only assume it was simply performative. Keep your enemies closer, and whatnot. To see it for what it was should have come as no surprise, yet it did.

As Zenigata considered heading back inside - the cold was too much even for him - he heard the door open.

Zenigata listened in disbelief. It could only be one person. Lupin was still busy in the kitchen, and Goemon didn’t wear dress shoes. The samurai’s traditional sandals had a unique sound to them, being all wood.

“Here. Got you these. Before Goemon ate them all.” Jigen said.

A hand stretched into view, holding what Zenigata could only assume was his apology. It was a plate with three steaming warm crepes thrown onto it. A careless dollop of jam sat on top, with a small fork stabbed into the side. The dish certainly wasn’t earning any Michelin stars, but god did it look good. While a part of Zenigata wanted to pettily push the plate away, he was far too hungry for such things. He’d smelt Lupin cooking them this morning and would have been saddened to get none. So wordlessly he grabbed the food and shoved half a crepe into his mouth.

Jigen made no move to leave like Zenigata had expected. Instead he busied himself with stoaking a fancy looking fire pit beside them (one that Zenigata had tried to figure out how to light for a solid ten minutes, before giving up) with an irritating effortlessness. Jigen then flopped down in the deck chair next to him, lighting a cigarette. 

 _‘Looking for a light’ my ass._ He already had one and wasn’t even hiding it! So he was just going to pretend Zenigata had never seen anything? 

Well he _had_ . Every minute that stretched between them, Zenigata’s desire to talk grew. _Why_? Why take his gun? Why stay out here with him every day if he didn’t trust him? It made no damn sense. Maybe it was the delicious food, but his anger had given way to confusion and skepticism. Something felt off about his first assumption. Jigen didn’t seem the type to feign friendliness for personal gain. That was Fujiko’s m.o. more than anything,

Finishing his mouthful, he turned to the gunman. “Jigen. Why do you come out here?”

A pause. Jigen shifted.

“Why do _you_ , old man?”

Zenigata straightened a little at the blatant deflection. But it was fine; he’d play along. “I don’t like to smoke inside. None of my officers were smokers, so I kept my filthy habit to myself. Didn’t want to give some bright eyed policeman with a long future lung cancer.” He stuffed his mouth with another bite of crepe. “Ok, I answered. _Now you._ ”

Silence. Zenigata swallowed and tried again. “You stand here and do this every morning, Jigen. Even now that we’re in a goddamn _mansion._ I bet this place has three decks and ten balconies _._ That’s what we in the business call _suspicious behaviour._ ”

The gunman shrugged. “Do I need a reason? Can’t a nice fuckin’ day be enough?”

“It’s freezing this morning.” Zenigata grumbled. “Overcast, too.” 

Jigen didn’t reply. Silence wasn’t new between them, but this was getting tiresome. He’d interrogated enough people to tell when there was information bubbling beneath the surface. The gunman was hiding something, he was sure. As Zenigata thought of his next plan of attack, Jigen brought a cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. 

As he exhaled, he finally spoke. “It’s a long way down.”

Zenigata blinked. “ _What?_ ” 

“From this deck.” Jigen elaborated. “Quite a fall.”

Zenigata shifted and looked down. Sure enough, there was a considerable plummet. The foliage beneath hid its true depth, but they were quite a way up. For a minute he honestly though Jigen was _threatening_ him, but that was just ludicrous. It was only when he saw the man’s stiff, joyless posture he realised another possibility. Was Jigen protecting him from something? Someone? If anyone in the group knew about a new hit put out on him, it would be Jigen.

Zenigata sat his crepes down, full attention now on the other man. “Jigen, are you protecting me?” He asked. 

“... In a sense.” 

“What from?”

Another pause. Zenigata growled; this stilted conversation was really starting to piss him off. “Jigen, _what from-“_

“-S’ not important. Don’t worry about it.” 

“What do you mean not important? If there are people out there that want to take my life, I’d like to know!“

“There isn’t. It’s nothing like that.” 

“Then what is it! Why come out here every morning? Why try and take _my gun_ ?” Zenigata yelled. Losing all his patience, he stood and leaned over the gunman, caging him in his seat. _“Tell me!”_

“I’m protecting you from _yourself_ , you depressed bastard!” Jigen shouted back in his face, pushing Zenigata away with a shove to his chest. 

Zenigata stumbled before settling into place, frozen by the admission. He... _what?_ His mind was reeling as it slotted everything into place. Guns. Heights. All great ways to kill oneself. Jigen thought he was suicidal? It was an understandable assumption. The thoughts did creep into his mind on occasion. He was in a dark place right now. But they weren’t- he _wouldn’t_. It wasn’t that bad yet. Right? He swallowed thickly. 

“I’m not-“ Zenigata croaked out, but was cut off.

“-Like hell you're not. I’m not waiting around for something to happen. ”

“I’m fine!” 

“Really?” Jigen took a step forward. He didn’t seem convinced. “You looked like hell last night. Couldn’t even do shit when those cops showed up. Were you fine then too?”

Zenigata had no answer. He felt shame and indignance twist together in his gut. He thought back once more to what had transpired at the hideout. It was something he’d been doing a lot since he’d sobered. Those officers had to practically scrape him off the floor of the bathroom. He could only watch, helpless, as Tamare had raided the place. The whole experience had been mortifying. He could’ve easily taken on those men in his prime; it frustrated him endlessly.

He shook his head in disgust. Even more unforgivably, he had been utterly useless to the gang. They had saved his life, fed and housed him for a whole month, and this was his thank you? Letting them almost get arrested because he was so drunk he couldn’t even lift his head? It was a shameful display. Even more so was the realisation that after the fact, Jigen had thought his gun needed confiscating like some sort of misbehaving child. 

“I’m grieving. It’s _normal_.” Zenigata bit back, though his words held no venom.

“Like this? For a month solid? With no change in sight? Nothin’ normal about that.”

Zenigata felt a hand clap sympathetically onto his back.

“Look, I’m no shrink, but something needs to change. You can’t do this forever; it’ll kill you. Gotta figure out what your gonna do with your life and just-“ Jigen gestured vaguely into the air. “Go do it.”

Zenigata knew what the man was saying _. You should leave_. And he should, shouldn’t he? If he was smart, Zenigata would have flown back to Japan and started the building blocks to his new life by now. But he didn’t, because Lupin wouldn’t be there. He’d probably never see the man again after... whatever this strange intermission in his life was. It wasn’t a reality he was willing to face: a life with no Lupin the third.

“I can’t.” 

The words slipped out of his mouth too desperately. Zenigata regretted them the minute he saw Jigen stare at him. He felt the hand detract from his back.

“Why so fast to rule it out, old man?”

“I-“ Zenigata paused. “I don’t want to leave my old life yet.”

“The police force?” Jigen made a disgusted grunt. “The fuck they ever do for you?”

“Not them.” Zenigata looked out, eyes fixated on the way a mountain far away was reflecting the sun's light. Anything to not see the reaction on the other man’s face.

Jigen didn’t reply, but Zenigata knew the hush that sat between them meant the man had understood. ICPO had never been his life, not really. The infuriating man making crepes in his underwear and singing pop tunes inside was. 

Lupin always had been his home.

The two smoked for a while. As he looked out at the beautiful landscape, Zenigata mulled over Lupin some more. He had genuinely been happy to see him safe last night. It made his heart feel full and warm. The grope hadn’t been too bad, either - making him feel things not quite as innocent. He shook his head, feeling like a dirty old man; it had clearly been done to get a rise out of him and nothing more, Lupin always did find getting him flustered hilarious. Zenigata knew that Lupin’s sense of humour, like every other aspect of the man, was sex laden and childish. It was a dreadful combination when mixed with his long standing infatuation with him.

Yearning for distraction, Zenigata thought about Tamare and his promises. The smart phone felt heavy in his pocket; it seemed borderline traitorous to keep ahold of. Was it really, though? He just wanted justice. That was all he ever wanted. 

But would Lupin see it that way? Would _Jigen_?

Zenigata picked at his now ice cold crepes, finishing them off.

“You know. There’s only one outcome that lets you stay.” Jigen said. “You can’t rot here forever doing nothing. Gotta lift your weight.”

Zenigata sighed; he was painfully aware. “I know.”

Jigen snubbed out his cigarette. “Would you ever do it? Become one of us?”

Zenigata didn’t even think; he just nodded. When he realised the other wasn’t staring in his direction, he took a breath and said it aloud. The words felt heavy, but truthful. “If you’d let me.” He plead.

Jigen made a noise, sounding something like a pitiful tut. 

“Anything to stay by his side, huh?”

Zenigata looked away. He hated how transparent he was. That’s what it all boiled down to, didn’t it? And everyone here knew it. A footstep behind him drew him from his thoughts. Before he could turn to see who it was, a voice began talking.

“So this is what you guys talk about while I’m away? Gotta admit; I was curious what you two do in the mornings, besides smoke like a pair of chimneys.”

Zenigata tensed at that voice. _Lupin_. How long had he been there? What had he heard?

“Lupin- _I_ ” Zenigata started, like he actually had a clue how he was going to follow up those words. He didn’t, and the sentence spluttered to a miserable death when he turned to look at the man standing in the doorway. Lupin still had an apron adorned with purple hearts wrapped around his waist as he leant on a wooden beam.

“Not to barge in, but I feel like this is a conversation I should be a part of.” The thief said cheerily, closing the gap.

Zenigata just nodded as the man slid closer. He allowed Lupin’s hands to dip underneath his jacket - the one Lupin had graciously bought him - and retrieve a packet of cigarettes and his zippo. Lupin popped one between his lips and lit it, before returning the belongings to their rightful place. It was a chaste motion, and Zenigata couldn’t believe this was the same man who had groped him. Zenigata’s face still turned just as red as it had that night, however. Half from the memory of his rough touches, and partially from a lack of oxygen. Zenigata realised he hadn’t let out his breath the entire time Lupin had stood in front of him; it was stuck in his lungs with sheer anticipation.

“Well?” Zenigata finally pushed, irritated when the man didn’t speak.

Lupin mirthfully puffed at his cigarette. “Well what? You’re not going anywhere.” He had a look in his eyes that Zenigata couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it sent a shiver down his spine. “You’re one of us.” 

Not a question; a statement. The kind of brattish dismissal from Lupin that any other time would have enraged him, but in this moment felt like pure relief. He had their blessing; he didn’t have to go anywhere. Lupin wanted him by his side, so there he would happily stay.

“You’ll make a good thief, old man.” Jigen hummed, slapping him on the back. “Spent enough time chasing one around.”

It had been said with such sincerity that Zenigata couldn’t help but believe it himself. He did have the knowledge; though it was acquired through being an opposing force all these years. Maybe this was what fate had in store for him the whole time? He smothered the urge to salute, just as he would whenever he received praise from a superior in the force.

“Yes. I promise I will.“

A laugh rippled from Lupin. “Kinda anticlimactic, but that settles it then.” The thief offered an outstretched hand, and Zenigata took it. They shook, in something that felt far too professional for the obvious wreckage that Zenigata was. 

“Welcome to the team, Pops.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think i rewrote this like 20 times bc I wasn't happy where it was going. 
> 
> We good now tho lol

“Son of a bitch. I bet you’re happier than a kid in a candy store.” 

Lupin grinned back at Jigen, all teeth and smug gums. Indeed he was. Pops had agreed to join them!

It was a dazzling victory on Lupin’s behalf; an accomplishment he held up next to his greatest heists. He got _Inspector Zenigata_ \- his main adversary all these years - to become one of them. Lupin was thinking of maybe walking on water while deciphering the Voynich manuscript later today, seeing he was doing such a good job at accomplishing the impossible. 

To say he was feeling ecstatic was a gross understatement.

“Don’t get smug.” Jigen chided. “There’s still plenty of time for this decision to blow up in our faces.”

Lupin shrugged as he peered back in the direction of the deck. Zenigata was sitting outside with his back turned to the large French-style glass doors. From this angle Pops was hunched over and only his broad, rounded back could be seen. It was a contemplative pose, Lupin decided. The man certainly had plenty to think about.

He could only hope Zenigata’s thoughts were nice ones. This place had one hell of a bar and unlike the expired food in the pantry the thief had mournfully had to throw out, the spirits and wine would be there till the end of time - the man could easily drink himself into oblivion.

More than that, the events from last night were fresh in his mind. Zenigata had acted strange when asked about Tamare. The bulge still remained - he had kept ahold of it, whatever ‘it’ even was. The secrecy was something he would have to confront later.

“He’s a fixer-upper.” Lupin admitted, turning away.

“He’s _depressed_ , Lupin.” Jigen placed his body between Lupin and the hallway, blocking his escape. “Not a goddamn renovation project! The old man is not some fucking condo that you can spackle up the cracks and make as good as new.”

“I know that!” Lupin huffed, crossing his arms. “... You’re ruining my fun. You know that?.”

“ _Good_.” Jigen said, lighting a cigarette. “Doing my job nicely, then.” With that the other man sauntered into the belly of the mansion, off to do god knows what. Organise his hats by shade of black, maybe. Have a tea party with all his guns propped up on little chairs. It was certainly none of Lupin’s business.

Lupin made his way back to his own room.

There was plenty of planning to be done.

\-------

A strange, discordant feeling propelled Zenigata through the rest of the morning. 

His feet wandered around on their own, while the rest of his body seemed to just tag along for the ride. He only realised that he’d re-entered the house after he found himself standing in the center of the kitchen, utterly aimless. When had he gotten here? Zenigata really couldn’t remember. He rubbed the back of his head and walked over to the counter, throwing a few plates and batter smeared bowls into the sink. While he was here, he may as well be useful clean up Lupin’s crepe mess. He was pretty sure that's what he'd come back inside to do. Turning on the tap he set to work scrubbing the dishes.

Zenigata was positively drained right now; emotionally and physically. There was nothing left to him but the soupy, foggy mess of his own thoughts. His brain could hardly register anything right now. All of his mental energy was being devoted to one realisation: He was now a part of Lupin‘s gang.

He’d been offered the opportunity and he taken it. 

Not just taken it, but _seized_ it with a desperation that came from a deep, unchecked desire in his soul. It was the part that’d always weave through the back alleys and sideroads when he did capture Lupin, just so he could delay the inevitable for a few blocks. The part spied the thief from an obscured window of his latest hideout, wearing an oversized sleep top and boxers as he squabbled over a hot pot and wanted nothing more than to join the gang inside. 

Zenigata had yearned for this. 

He had for a long, long time. 

Zenigata shook his head, pulling himself from the thought. What a traitorous _bastard_ he was. The phone sat like a brick in his pocket, as if promising that this selfish indulgence wouldn't go without punishment. None of it felt good - but that didn't change the fact it felt _right_.

Zenigata was a torn man.

The only solution he’d found so far was to not let his mind teeter to either end. He tried to force his brain to remain in the middle, caught in a tricky game of emotional see-saw. First was the stab of guilt, followed by the soothing balm that staying with Lupin provided him.

While it was true he wasn’t with Interpol anymore and never damn would be, it didn’t mean he had no morals. He would always consider himself a cop. Police after all, were the good guys. And good guys weren’t supposed to be chummy with the bad guys.

Then again, the ‘good guys’ weren’t supposed to send out hitmen and frame an innocent man for murder. Yet, that was exactly what Interpol had done to him. There had been no good men in sight that night, only faceless scum in uniforms with pistols raised. How _quickly_ they had turned against him. Zenigata would’ve been insulted if he hadn’t already been painfully aware of how disposable Interpol considered him. He was the running joke of the force. That wacky Japanese guy that shouted a lot and chased after one criminal- a thief he had never successfully caught. 

If he wasn’t so damn good at every other aspect of his job, he would have been sacked years ago.

Zenigata sighed. 

As it turned out, the world was a grey and ambiguous place. Zenigata just wished he knew where he sat within it. There was a quiet optimism that bubbled in him that it could be here with Lupin, Jigen and Goemon. He had never hated any of the gang, not really. On a dangerous mission, he’d find himself thinking just as much about their safety as the civilians around them. Not that he ever let those feelings interfere but they were always there, sitting in the back of his mind like a fussing mother. 

It was absurd, really.

Even more absurd was the large part of him that wanted nothing more than to sit and bask in Lupin’s bastardous presence for the rest of his life. In fact, he had become quite a glutton in that aspect as of late. Lazing around Lupin’s apartment, eating the food Lupin cooked. Wearing clothes - given to him by Lupin. Conversations between the pair had remained light and playful, but everyone involved knew the situation was anything resembling normal. He could only imagine what Goemon or Jigen truly felt.

It all was inconsequential now he supposed. Change was coming. Whatever had been going on this past month was now at an end. It was written all over Lupin’s face last night; the man had grown restless. The realisation both had done little but orbit around each other for a whole month was a startling one. The fact it had come so easy to them was even more concerning. It had popped like a bubble over both of their heads, snapping them from their stupor.

With a huff Zenigata dropped the scourer, turning the tap off. It was no use; he was too preoccupied. The dishes could use a soak anyway. As Zenigata wandered down the halls of the mansion, he could only wonder what was next. This situation had gotten messy in his head; unclear and complicated. Was it the same for Lupin? Or was everything simple for that man? Probably. It often seemed like everyone in the Lupin gang had the midas touch, topped off with a sloppy, open mouthed kiss from Lady Luck.

Zenigata wasn’t coy; he knew he had skills. But they were purpose built apprehend criminals; not to aid them. Apart from his tenacity, his handcuffs and his uncanny ability to sniff Lupin out? He had little. He supposed he would just have to find a way. He was determined not to let the gang down. The idea of robbing people blind might have made his stomach flip, but he was indebted. It _needed_ to be done. 

… Well, that story sounded far nicer in his head than the truth, anyway. As selfish as it was, staying with Lupin was all that mattered. He’d just have to make sure no one got hurt in the process; especially not civilians.

“Tea?” 

_Who had said that?_

Zenigata let his eyes focus, before realising he had stopped within proximity of Goemon’s room. The door was slightly ajar and inside Goemon was sitting on a nest of cushions on the floor, pouring a cup of steaming tea from a sizeable clay teapot. The man was perched by the window, no doubt taking in the same gorgeous view that Zenigata had this morning. It was probably a stunning place to meditate.

 _Probably far nicer without an ex cop loitering outside his door,_ Zenigata bashfully realised. How long had he been there before Goemon had snapped him from his trance?.

“You don't have to pull out the niceties, Goemon. Just wandering around. I’ll leave.” Zenigata turned on his heel. 

He stopped however as Goemon’s voice cut through again.

“I insist. You seem troubled.” The samurai said. “Come in.”

“If you really don’t mind.” Zenigata replied, fumbling over the vowels. He really wasn’t expecting to talk to another human on his mindless walk. Tea did sound nice, though.

Stepping into the threshold, he joined the man on the floor with a laboured grunt. Even with the pillows, the western style floor was hard and unforgiving on his ass. The cup of tea was offered to him, and with a thanks he took it. Peeking into the cup, a bright green liquid met his eyes. Ahh. It must have been some sort of matcha. He took a sip of the tea, enjoying the grassy taste after such a sweet breakfast.

“Do you like it?” Goemon asked, taking a sip of his own. 

Zenigata took another mouthful. It tasted just like the green tea his grandmother used to serve him. It likely was made with the same methods; Goemon was an old soul in a young body after all. The man had a taste for tradition and Zenigata could respect that.

“Hmm. This tea is great; reminds me of home.”

He looked up to find the samurai appeared silently pleased at his comment. A realisation dawned on him that Goemon, despite being the youngest of the group by a considerable chunk, may have felt lonely due to his rigorous adherence to tradition and honor. Zenigata felt hopefully optimistic maybe they could bond over that. He was “Pops” after all. Old, outdated things were his niche.

“Jigen and Lupin don’t enjoy tea.” Goemon elaborated. He took a sip, before continuing. “They’re both coffee drinkers. They buy expressos and whatever those ones with the froth and chocolate on top are named. I drink them on occasion. They disrupt my gut and don’t taste as good.”

”I see.” Zenigata didn’t know the name of the fancy coffee drinks either; used to just scull down whatever was waiting for him in the office. It was more for the caffeine content than anything; though to be fair he would treat most tea just as joylessly. It had all just been fuel to get through the sleepless nights of hunting down criminals.

“What did Lupin and Jigen talk to you about?”

Zenigata looked up from his cup; the question had startled him. How could Goemon possibly know? Had he been watching somehow?

“... You saw that?” 

Goemon nodded and turned in the direction of the window. Sure enough, from it was a clear view of front porch. Goemon would have witnessed the whole conversation as a silent pantomime. “I saw you three out there this morning. You shook on something.”

“Oh… well. _That_.” Zengiata cleared his throat. “Lupin asked if I wanted to be a part of the gang.” That was hardly the truth; Lupin had more waltzed in, insisted he was a part of a group and sauntered back out. But Zenigata had his pride, or what little of it was left.

Goemon’s eyes flashed in surprise under his black fringe. But the emotion passed like a flick of lightning - soon the samurai’s face was back to unreadable. “And your answer?”

“I said yes.” Zenigata took a nervous gulp of his tea, not trusting his mouth to be empty at that time.

Goemon closed his eyes as he took a sip out of his own cup, mulling over the words. “I’m glad.” The man hummed, nodding his approval. “Your talents will be of great use to us.”

Zenigata couldn't stop the dismissive snort that slipped out. “ _Talents_? I smoke and drink and not much else these days, Goemon. They’re not skills that are of use to anyone.”

A frown settled on Goemon’s brow. The look made Zenigata feel self conscious of his own dismissive humour. “You have many talents.” The man insisted. “You’re persistent. Resourceful. Have a vast knowledge of the ICPO’s inner workings - and more importantly: you keep Lupin in line.”

Zenigata laughed for real this time. _Him_? Having any damn control over that monkey bastard? 

“There’s a line between flattery and fabrication, Goemon. You should really learn it. No one can keep Lupin in check, especially not me.”

“I would not bother to lie; these past weeks have been the calmest I’ve ever spent with Lupin. No late night drunken pity calls to Fujiko. No messy, botched heists. No wandering the streets like a stray alley cat in heat, looking for women to bed. It’s been… nice.” 

“I’m sure it’s only temporary.” Zenigata replied, unconvinced it was him that caused the shift. Truth was he hadn’t even thought about Fujiko’s absence. Then again, he never really paid too much attention to the woman to begin with, much to her chagrin. He must have been looking unconvinced, because Goemon picked up the teapot and topped up Zenigata’s cup, before speaking again.

“Would you like to hear some advice that Jigen gave me when I joined Lupin’s employ?”

Zenigata nodded. This should be interesting. He’d learnt this past month the gunman could be quite insightful when he opened up and allowed himself to be. If not a pious asshole at times.

“He told me Lupin is a man who happily will take from people until there is nothing left of them. It would be far too easy to get sucked into his light: to fall into the myth of Lupin the III. But you shouldn’t. Many people have been destroyed by such faith. If Lupin asks too much of you? _Leave_. Jigen and I certainly have - many times. The decision has saved us. I believe Lupin too. He dreams too large; it will be his demise. But it should be his end alone. Not ours.”

Zenigata snorted childishly, the noise a weak attempt to cut through serious the air around them. “Your advice is to say no to Lupin? Great! I already do that a lot. It’s one of my favourite damn things to do.” Zenigata rose to his knees, beginning to stand. “In fact, where is he? I’ll damn hit him with one right now.”

Goemon cracked a small smile, before attempting to hide it with a paper thin frown. “Lupin is persistent. He nearly always get his way. And why would he not? His career is to take. To snatch. To _steal_.”

“Yeah.” Zenigata grumbled, using his standing position to hide the grimace on his face. He knew what the other meant. Lupin could play real dirty when he wanted to. How else would he have ended up here? Agreeing to this madness? Living in this den of thieves and assassins? It would be so easy to let it all slide over him and not think - let his own life slowly slip out of his control.

“Trust me.” Zenigata agreed, wearier this time. “ _I know_.”

 

\--------------

Goemon's words followed him. 

They ghosted behind him as he walked by Lupin’s room, taking a side glance as he did so. The man had been in there all day.

Zenigata knew because this wasn’t his first pass over. He paced around the mansion countless times. What else was there to do but to watch Lupin? If the man found it irritating, he didn’t voice it.

In fact the man didn’t say or do _anything_.

It was driving him crazy.

On Zenigata’s first look: he’d been hunched over sheets of paper and various glowing screens. Second time Lupin had been scribbling. The words ‘Dubai’ and “Diamond’ were in bold. Neither phrases meant anything to him and he had no means to look them up other than the phone Tamare had provided him, so that lead had quickly dissolved into a dead end. Third pass the man was still as stone as he poured over the details of _a_ plan known only to him. 

By the fourth check-in Zenigata had poked his head through the threshold and asked what the hell he was up to, but he’d been shushed and the door shut in his face. Lupin had been on the phone - a woman’s voice on the other end. It had been Fujiko, Zenigata was sure. He knew her pitch anywhere. Was his first job really going to be with that woman? Was he even going on this one? Zenigata frowned; perhaps the sudden secrecy was for other reasons.

It had taken every ounce of preservation in his body not to shout and stamp his feet. To burst down the door because _how dare Lupin?_ Being declined information felt like a slap in the face - but he had to remind himself he wasn’t a cop anymore. He couldn’t just flash a badge to get what he wanted. 

Unsure of how to proceed, Zenigata looked to the people around him. Goemon always enjoyed solitude but Jigen too was notably leaving Lupin alone, vanishing into the walls of the manson. He only knew the gunman was avoiding Lupin and not himself due to the brisk meeting they had at the fridge. 

Jigen clearly hadn’t emerged from his room for conversation, yet even he made a point to comment on Zenigata pacing up and down the halls. A lot of words spilled out of Zenigata’s mouth after that, vomited at the unsuspecting man next to him. Had he done something wrong already? Should he go in there and confront Lupin? Was this some sort of test? What the hell was going on?

“He doesn’t hate you.” Jigen had said before lifting the container of juice to his lips, taking a swig. “When Lupin has a plan in his skull he turns into a real fucking brat. He’ll be up there the rest of the day - no point trying to talk to him when gets like this.” 

When Zenigata had tried to bail him up with several more follow up questions, Jigen had jammed a cigarette into his mouth and lit it.

“Calm down, Old Man. Enjoy the peace - you’ll miss it when Lupin’s off again and dragging us all over the damn place.”

Zenigata had taken an angry drag. Feeling like a baby that was trying to be pacified with a dummy, his arms crossed tightly. What made him even more infuriated was it’s effectiveness. As he’d let the smoke out of his nose with a slow exhale, his shoulders sagged.

“Relax. It won’t kill ya.” Were Jigen’s last words, before the kitchen was empty once more.

Zenigata glared at the decorative silver strip that ran down the fridge. 

_With the luck he had in life, he really doubted that_

\---------------

Three days.

Lupin had been holed up in his damn room for _three days._ He was just about ready to drag the asshole out by his ears.

Zenigata had been expecting Lupin to just chuck him into this life completely blind. He’d been counting on it, actually. Rip the band-aid off in one go so to speak. It would be better than this waiting, which was giving him ample time to think.

It wasn’t a good thing. He didn’t want to think; the dark clouds of his subconscious never made that a fun experience.

So he took the situation into his own hands. Why should Lupin have any control over him? He was a grown man, after all! He could live without Lupin’s constant instruction. He could make goals for himself and more importantly follow through on them. 

Zenigata started using the gym. The pool, too. The latter was especially growing on him. It was a gorgeous room lined with iridescent blue tiles that always seemed warmed to just the right temperature. He’d do lap after lap until his body and mind were comfortably exhausted. In the same vein, the burning in his lungs after he’d completed a full hour on the treadmill was a nostalgic recreation of when he’d chase Lupin through the back streets of some gritty city, mind and reflexes being put to the test at every turn.

It wasn’t a magic fix all. He still felt the pull of his negative thoughts. But it left him placated - a stable foundation to build on.  Encouraged, he started reviving other old habits he’d inexplicably dropped.

Zenigata used to be incredibly astute. It was something he’d prided himself on in the force, the skill of constantly being on watch, routinely sweeping whatever environment he was dropped in.

So he began to patrol the borders of the large manor, which was quite a space to cover without back up. In an embarrassing game of make believe he’d try and scope out potential routes for Lupin to sneak in - only now there was no real crisis, so he could take his time.

Exploring the brick expanse, a certain grate kept on catching his eye. It was large enough for a man to fit into and when Zenigata removed the cover and poked his head inside, he realised the vent went upwards in a staircase pattern. He’d seen no vents in his room, or Goemon’s. The living room had a modern air con unit that led directly outside, on the opposite end of the building. 

So where did it go?

Not one to hesitate, Zenigata crawled inside. It was a tight fit and he had to shuffle on his hands and knees to crawl through.

When he’d pushed off the grate on the other end and a gunshot had greeted him, he’d quickly received his answer.

The vent led to Jigen’s room.

“The fuck are you doing - _Zenigata_?”

Of course, in hindsight, it made a lot of sense. It was the only room in the building he’d never entered. Well, until _now_. Zenigata had stared down at Jigen, his head poking out of the vent like a gopher from its hole, for what felt like years. Jigen was without his hat and was sprawled on his bed, reading a magazine. The vulnerable scene made Zenigata all the more regretful he’d infringed on the man’s privacy. The tv babbling to itself in the corner provided audio to the awkward scene.

“I wanted to see where this vent lead to.” Zenigata proclaimed bullheadedly, feeling his face turn redder than coal on a fire.

Jigen’s hysterical laughter and mirthful comment that he and Lupin were ‘two dumbasses that truly deserved one another’ still rung in his ears as he shuffled backwards for what felt like miles, until he was ejected ass first outside.

It had been embarrassing as hell.

After that, he quietly dropped the patrol.

There was more to do in the outdoors, anyway. The large rolling hills were perfect for discovering secret walking tracks carved in the grass and as he travelled outwards, he realised who the foot worn trenches belonged to. Blade marks, deep and clean were notched into some of the trees in the surrounds. Obviously Goemon’s work, Zenigata knew the man’s signs. 

Using the same methods he found an opening in the far off scrubland, where a string of bottles lay. Most shattered, all hit with devastating accuracy. Jigen’s romping grounds, freshly used, as could be seen from the newly snuffed cigarette butts.

Wanting to go somewhere that hadn’t already been claimed, he walked even further outwards. To the point Zenigata was sure he was now on someone else's property - Lupin had said the only other house around here belonged to a farm about four miles south. It hardly mattered; the overgrown grass and bushes told him this area wasn’t currently being used for any agricultural purposes, so he continued on.

He almost wished he hadn’t.

Scanning eyes came to settle on a small device that glimmered in the grass, a shiny and synthetic beacon in the tangle of wilderness. White and unnaturally clean. Impossible to miss, despite its small size.

Zenigata recognized it right away. The lump of shiny plastic was Tamare’s drone. His privacy feeling utterly violated, Zenigata took a stiff step forward. He noted as he got closer the drone had likely been put out of commission by a rogue twig shoved in its underbelly. Was it still on? How long had it been here? Zenigata felt his face grow hot as he recollected all that had happened since he arrived at the manor. The thing might have videoed him agreeing to join the gang. It might even still be recording now, beaming back his slowly approaching figure to Tamare at this very moment.

Paranoid, Zenigata brought a boot down onto the small machine. He felt a burst of relief as it snapped and crumpled under the rubber. He pivoted his heel in a windshield wiper motion, grinding his foot into the thing as if killing a bug. It certainly felt similar, its plastic exoskeleton crunching and pulling apart.

Zenigata, not sure what else to do, simply fled. 

He kept checking behind himself as he headed back to the manor, like the thing would come back to life and hunt him. As if Tamare would emerge from a bush and give chase. But neither happened. It didn’t bring him any comfort, his palms still felt clammy as he steered himself back to the house, robotically greeting Jigen when he did so. The gunman was bringing in a handful of groceries, so he grabbed half of the bags and helped carry them to the kitchen. Keeping busy seemed like a good idea right now. 

His brain flipped between thoughts so fast he felt feverish. His sane mind told him to warn Jigen of what he’d seen and get the fuck out of here. The last thing they needed was to be jumped again by the ICPO. 

But.

 _But_.

Then there was the innocuous thought that maybe he could keep his discovery a secret and manage to salvage the ties he had left with Tamare. The man was his only chance of a fair trial - to sever it clean would be committing to whatever path he was heading down now. Plus, Tamare had mentioned something about him putting this whole ‘catching Lupin’ thing on hold while the Inspector did some digging.

Did that make it any better? The idea of Tamare surveying the gang without their knowledge made his stomach turn.

“You good?” Jigen puffed out between the cigarette smoke, placing the bags onto the counter. “You look… tense.”

Zenigata didn’t look over. His eyes were still tied to the window, keeping guard. He realised in that moment he couldn’t do this - play such a risky, selfish game. If any of the gang were arrested or harmed, it would be due to his secrecy. A sharp prickle at the back of his neck reminded him that there was a very real possibility the room they stood in now was bugged, that they weren’t safe.

They never would be, if Zenigata continued to flirt with the idea of fraternising with the ICPO. The damn phone in his pocket likely had a tracker in it too - he probably had led Tamare straight to them. The device would have to be discarded the first opportunity he got.

“Tamare knows we’re here.” Zenigata announced, not giving his mind a chance to talk him out of it. “We have to leave.”

Those words got Jigen’s attention. The gunman’s slumped body came to life as he rushed to the window, gun drawn. “And you were gonna fucking tell us this when?” he spat, peeking out through through the glass. “ How do you know this? Where is he now?”

“I- I don’t-“ Zenigata fumbled, not expecting such a strong reaction. Which was ludicrous, because how else would a criminal react to hearing the cops were on their tail? “He’s not here, but I found a broken ICPO issue drone in a field a mile from here. It looked fresh - it might not have even made it to the house.”

“Fuck off with that. They know our fucking location.” 

Jigen flew upstairs, his boots heavy with every step. They stopped, and Pop’s heart seized for second as the man reappeared again.

“Make yourself useful and find Goemon. If he’s not in his room, he’s on the roof.”

A hand flew up to Zenigata’s face in a desperate salute. It was a nervous habit. He was glad when he realised that Jigen was long gone and hadn’t seen the embarrassing gesture.

 

————-

 

With Goemon gathered, the four men had left in a hurry. They had packed next to nothing. Lupin had armfuls of blueprints and his laptop. Jigen a black case - no doubt his arsenal. Goemon had Zantetsuken. Zenigata brought along whatever was floating around in his jacket. Handcuffs, his ICPO issue gun and a packet of smokes. 

And that damn phone. He couldn't find himself able to part with it - he'd left it on the kitchen counter, only to hastily retrieve it the very last second.

Maybe it was just his guilty conscious, but the car seemed tense as they left. Zenigata saw it in Jigen’s face - distrust. Scepticism. And why the hell would he not be feeling that? Zenigata had hardly burst in and warned them right away. His behaviour had been rife with suspicious ticks. The atmosphere was thankfully cracked open a little by Lupin. The man gave a crooked smile, assuring that this really wasn’t much of an inconvenience - they needed to travel to their new location soon anyway

\-------------

 

“ _Lupin_.”

Jigen’s gravelly voice rang through Lupin’s very bones. The thief puffed out his cheeks, as his lidded eyes dragged over to the window of the gas station. Pops was inside, ordering some coffee and snacks. His erratic pointing and language barrier would mean the task would keep him busy for a while. They’d practically had to shove him out of the car - he must have known the conversation they wanted to have and it needed to be done away from his ears. 

Lupin had known something was off.

Of course he had, he wasn’t an idiot. The night Pops had been apprehended had gone too smooth - unnaturally so. But he’d ignored it in favour of planning hiests, a pretty dumb move in hindsight. Tamare just letting Zenigata go without asking anything in return? Of course that was a damned lie.  

“I mean... The fact he warned us shows he’s no traitor, right?” Lupin added to the tense air. “You of all people should know how hard it is to sever ties. How long did it take for us to get the mob to leave you alone? You kept crawling back! _`Oh this guy is different, he helped me out of a jam three years ago’  ‘Stevie is a friend! We go way back’ ‘just one more favour, then we’ll be equal’_.” It was an old cut, Lupin knew. He basically had to dust off curtains of spiderwebs to even access it. To no one's surprise the jab was largely ignored.

“I was always honest with you. He told us at _the very last minute_. How long had he been holding onto that knowledge?”

“Look, he hasn’t _shown_ any signs of betraying us yet!”

“That’s your case for him?”

“ _Yes_!” Lupin threw his arms up in the air. “And it’s a good one! Isn’t that practically the motto for this gang? Isn’t that how this whole criminal thing goes?”

“Lupin you can’t ignore this.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not just going to waltz up to Pops and start hounding him. He won’t react kindly to that. In fact he’d probably tell me to fuck off and we’ll be back at square one.”

“So then what do we do?” Jigen tone had become softer. “The guy thinks the world of you Lupin. I know he’s not faking that. But he’s a cop - he always will be. He can’t have it both ways. He’s gotta learn that. We can’t just fucking tip toe around that fact.”

Lupin sighed. He knew that.

“For now we watch. _Wait_. If he really is conspiring with the ICPO, we’ll find out soon enough. Pops really isn’t a guy who can hold onto a secret for too long.”

Lupin jumped as the car door behind him opened.

“Sorry-” Zenigata begun, crawling into the fiat, “They didn’t have any juice for you Goemon, so I got them to make you a warm milk.”

Goemon nodded his thanks as the drink was passed to him.

“Lupin: Black, two sugars.”

Lupin accepted the brown paper cup, taking a sip. It was definitely not black - he could taste milk. More than that, it was about as bitter as the gunman sitting next to him. He nodded his thanks anyway, taking a final courtesy sip of the foul liquid before banishing it to the eternal fate of the cars’ cup holder.

“Jigen, I know you said you didn’t want anything but-”

Jigen held a hand up, stopping Pops from offering him the final drink. “Keep it.” He mumbled around his cigarette.

“Oh for - he’s just cranky. Ignore him.” Lupin insisted, taking the cup and placing it beside his own in the holder. He knew for a fact Jigen would be grabbing for it a few hours, even if it had grown cold. “Get in, Pops.”

Clambering fully into the car, Zenigata fastened his seatbelt.

\-------------

 

“C’mon. Old man.”

Zenigata jolted awake.

“ _Hrmg_.” He pushed away the hand that was shaking his shoulder, but it continued its assault. As he came to, Zenigata felt a wave of disorientation. The sky was darker than he’d remembered. He blinked a few times. Looking outside his window, he saw the lines of buildings. The structures were slotted together in a tight succession and had numbers on the doors. They must have pulled into an inn. The crunch of gravel as cars flew by could be heard in the distance, telling him their location wasn’t far off the highway.

“ _Hey_.” Zenigata was greeted with another shove. “You gonna sleep in the car all night or what? Gotta lock up.”

“I- of course not.” 

Zenigata stepped out, allowing Jigen to close the door behind him. The gunman turned the key and the doors made a dull _thunk_ as they locked. Stuffing the key into his pocket, Jigen hopped back onto the pavement. Zenigata followed behind, still not fully shaken the feeling of displacement. Where the hell were they? The two walked silently until they stopped at a door with the number ‘11’ painted onto it. Reaching their location, Jigen jammed the old key in and unlocked the room.

“My advice? Ditch the coat. Hell, your jacket too while you're at it. You won't need any of it.”

Zenigata raised an eyebrow at the comment. What was that supposed to mean? Sure it was a warm night, but it wasn’t-

Zenigata discarded the thought as he looked over the room. He drank in the scene with horror and intrigue. Lupin was sitting on the bed, pots of latex and other various supplies sprawled around him like a nest. Skin coloured hues leaked from tubes. Something that looked like sandy blonde human hair stuck out from the fold of the bedsheets. Blue fabric, cut into rectangles, lay at Lupin’s crossed legs. The man looked like a modern-day mad genius as he held the hotel supplied hair dryer up to his creation, fanning it with a manic level of focus.That alone was confusing, but there was a slightly more glaring point of concern. One that made Zenigata wonder if it was a dream - the kind he should wake up from if he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in the cramped fiat.

Lupin was only in his boxers. 

 _Nothing new,_ Zenigata tiredly reminded himself, _but still pretty damn jarring to wake up to._

“Aww Jigen, did you really have get him?” The man whined. “There’s not enough room!”

“Course I damn did. He can’t sleep out there - what if a cop walks by?”

The thief crossed his arms. The action drew Zenigata’s attention to his chest and face, which were flushed red. More than that, Lupin was practically glimmering from the sweat that was rolling down his body. Zenigata was about to make a comment about the impromptu nudity, _namely why the hell Lupin was looking so debauched,_ but then the door fully closed behind him and a wave of hot, stale air enveloped him.

_Oh god._

_No way was he sleeping a room this fucking hot._

“Before you ask - yes we gotta all share this dump. Not enough money for two rooms. And no, the aircon doesn’t fucking work. Nor will Lupin stop using that hairdryer. Something about the paint needing to cure.” Jigen sighed, tearing off his jacket and popping the first three buttons of his dress shirt as he walked over to a chair in the far corner. Jigen collapsed into it. “Also: This chair is mine. I _will_ shoot you if I see you in it.”

Zenigata gave a panicked glance back to the door. 

_Maybe he should have stayed in the car?_

\--------------

 

After a few hours, an ‘accidental’ busted lip, Goemon barricading himself in the bathroom, numerous death threats hollowly flung in every direction and his own clothes (omitting his undershirt and boxers) stripped and discarded, Zenigata held the final disguise in his hand. It wasn’t his, Lupin didn’t have a mould of Zenigata’s face to work from - it was Goemon’s. Soon the samurai would be a Caucasian man in his 30’s, with shoulder length frizzy brown hair and stubble. It paired nicely with Lupin and Jigen’s masks, who looked around the same age and ethnicity.

Even with the residual rage coursing through his body and a crick in his neck from having to hold the damn latex up as Lupin worked, Zenigata had to admit it was a piece of art. Lupin really knew how to sculpt a disguise. It was especially impressive it had been achieved in a shitty hotel room like this.

“What do you think? Pretty amazing, huh?”

Lupin emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his freshly washed face and chest. Zenigata’s heart skipped for a moment, before he noticed the second towel wrapped around his hips. With a shaky exhale, Zenigata thanked whatever god was watching over him for the small act of modesty.

“It’s fine.” Zenigata said. No way was he going to stroke the other man’s ego after the hell he’d just endured. “Not your best.”

Lupin scoffed. “Alright then, I suppose I’ll have to outdo myself with yours.”

Zenigata spun around to face the man.

“I thought you weren’t-?”

“We have to.” Lupin started with a huff. “I was trying to think of another way to try and sneak you around, but it will be next to impossible once we get to the airport.”

 _“Airport?”_ Zenigata narrowed his eyes. Just what were these disguises for?

“Yeah. How else would we travel to Dubai? _By boat_?”

 _“Goddamn Dubai_?” Zenigata was about to tear into Lupin, but Jigen beat him to the punch.

“Jesus Lupin? You weren’t gonna tell us at any point you were carting us all off to the _Middle East_?” 

“Of course I was!” Lupin clambered onto the bed, swatting some empty tubes of paint away to make room. “What do you think I’m doing now?”

A long, tired sigh drifted from Jigen. The kind that could only come from enduring Lupin for such a painfully long time. Zenigata could relate.

“Well, spill it.” Jigen reclined back in his seat. “What plans you got for us over there?”

That’s when it came back to Zenigata - what he’d spotted written on Lupin’s desk.

_Diamond. Dubai._

“It has something to do with a diamond.”

Lupin frowned. “I- hey! How do you know? You were snooping around my room, weren’t you?”

“Course I damn was!” Zenigata spat back. “I don’t like not knowing what I’m getting myself into.”

 

\-------------

 

When Goemon was dragged from the bathroom, they received their briefing. Zenigata was rather proud of himself - he only spiralled into an existential crisis twice, silently pulling himself out each time. Now was not the time for second doubts, Lupin was spitting out important information at rapid speeds. They were going to infiltrate a charity event in Dubai, in which the ultra elite of the world were set to congregate and mingle. To no one's surprise, the charity aspect was merely a front for jewellery smuggling. But it wasn’t just your run of the mill gold or gemstones. No, a newly dug up yellow diamond was said to be passing through. It was huge - about the size of a tennis ball. Zenigata let out an impressed whistle upon seeing it.

“So, that's what we're after?” Jigen flicked up the brim of his hat to take in the tiny image displayed on Lupin’s phone.

“Yep! Isn’t she a beauty? She’s so new on the block her appraisal price is uncertain - but many are saying upwards of 10 mil.”

“Such perfection - it seems impossible nature crafted it.” Goemon noted.

“And you’re right about that,” Lupin mused. “Many are claiming it to be artificial.”

Jigen scoffed. “Then why the hell are we going after it? Why waste our time finding out?”

“Now now, Jigen.” Lupin tapped a very condescending finger on the end of the gunman’s nose. "You know better than doubt me! This yellow diamond would just be the icing on the cake. We're going after all of those rich fools money and gems as well. If the thing isn’t real, who cares? We’ll still be loaded!”

A lazy grin spread across Jigen’s face. “Maybe it’s the heat of this damn room, but you’re winning me over.”

Lupin laughed, wrapping an arm around his buddy. “I knew I would! What about you, Goe? Plenty of safes and vaults to slice open, I’m sure."

“While they aren’t worthy of my blade, my services are always open to you Lupin.” The Samurai replied with a nod. Zenigata noticed the small smile that ghosted on Goemon’s lips. 

Lupin’s eyes then settled on him.

“Pops? You up to rob some rich idiots?”

Zenigata froze.

In that moment it all hit him. How this was really happening - this was now his life. It still felt so alien. He wasn’t one of these people. They looked ecstatic about what they were about to do. Would he ever be like that? Did he even want to be? Would this crushing feeling in his chest ever lift so he _could get some damn words out and get everyone to stop staring at him?_

“... Pops? You good?” Lupin’s cocky demeanour had deflated into a mixture of concern and dejection. 

Zenigata would have felt bad if he wasn’t so preoccupied trying to control the emotions that were crashing around inside him.The hot air that hung still and thick in the room made it feel impossibly airless as the silence stretched. It didn’t seem enough, what little oxygen the four were passing amongst them. What the hell was he supposed to say? _“Yes Mr. Lupin! Why, I sure do love crime!”_ He didn’t. He loved Lupin. That's the only reason he was here.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, Lupin. I’ll do anything you want.”

That apparently wasn’t the right answer. Lupin frowned.

“Obligation doesn’t make for a good thief, Pops.” 

He jumped a little as Lupin leaned in, smug smile returning twofold. “But you know what? I think you’re just being coy. You love a little chaos, Pops. Don’t even try and tell me otherwise! The things I’ve seen you do over the years in pursuit of me. Well, lets just say they were _very uncoplike_.”

“I - I only did what needed to be done.”

“Like barrel through your own men? Pops you treated those boys like they were bowling pins and you were playing the most violent game of tenpin known to man.”

“I- they were in the damn way!” Zenigata snapped. “Always going too _slow_.”

“Oh? And the ten car pile up you caused in July was for the same reason? Those pesky civilians going too slow?”

“You bastard! You caused that just as much as I did. You weren’t stopping either.”

“Hey, Old Man!” Jigen slapped at his arm, looking far too amused. “Remember that Netherlands heist? Was watching you through my scope, you know. Threw that millionaire over your shoulder like a damn ragdoll when he turned down your protection.”

“It was within police protocol! We had a warrant on him.”

“Bullshit!” Jigen laughed. “In wrestling I’m pretty sure they call that move _a suplex_.”

“Holy shit. I wanna see Pops suplex a corrupt millionaire.” Lupin offered.

“... I too would like to see that.” Goemon bashfully added.

“That's it!” Zenigata spat, no longer being able to stomach the three giggling, smug faces in front of him. “This damn heat is going to kill me. I’m gonna take a shower.” Zenigata stood up, awkwardly stomping towards the bathroom. No one made an attempt to stop him, so he slipped inside the white tiled room. 

The minute the door clicked closed, he heard hushed whispers on the other side. For once he didn’t rush over to investigate. There was no listening in - he had a pretty good idea what was being said.

_Damn little shits._

 

_\-------------_

When Zenigata had emerged from the shower, he felt refreshed.

That sensation had lasted roughly three seconds before he was accosted and shoved onto the bed by Lupin. The man wanted a cast of his face, so he could churn out the final disguise by morning. Eventually he just gave up, allowing the man to work. It wouldn't be that hard after all, he just had to sit there and let Lupin smear plaster over his face.

Zenigata could probably get in some z's.

\-------------

 

“Lay still!” Lupin barked. 

“Go to hell!” Zenigata snapped back, as he fought the urge to scratch his face. The plaster was starting to make his nose itch and it was driving him mad. He hated this. Just absolutely loathed it. If he knew all this crap had been stored in the back of the fiat, he could have thrown it into the overgrowth the first chance he got. Was a full disguise really that important? Why had he even agreed to this? It was useless anyway. With the amount he was sweating the stuff would never fully dry.

He flinched as he felt Lupin swipe another layer over his face. It was cold - the only cool thing in this damn sweatbox of a room - but would quickly set to a hard, pinching sensation.

“Just pretend its a lovely clay face mask.” Lupin offered as he smoothed out his work. Zenigata had his eyes shut but he could feel Lupin’s steady breaths against his neck. The man was close - _too close._

“Do I look like the kind of person who goes to a spa?” Zenigata grit out, trying to ignore the feeling of a hot body looming over him.

“Nope. Not really-” Lupin snickered. “You’re pores are _huge_. Jesus, is that what I have to look forward to in a few years? Maybe this plaster will do your skin some good?”

_You little shit._

With a growl Zenigata’s arm flew up, blind and clambering to catch Lupin’s arm and _hurt_. He found his goal and pinched the clammy skin as hard as he could, immensely enjoying the man’s surprised yelp of pain. His victory was short lived when he felt the brush of silky fabric across the back of his hand. with horror he recoiled his arm.

Wait, _what_?

Lupin was only wearing one article of clothing - his boxers. Zenigata then realised with a creeping dread he had been  _nowhere_ near the man’s arm. 

“Woah.” Lupin managed to get out through a ripple of nervous laughter. “I know you're grumpy, but please! Let’s keep the fighting clean! No blows - or _pinches_ , below the belt.”

“I was _going foo ur rm_.” Zenigata grit out. The plaster around his mouth was starting to tighten. He felt like he was being mummified alive. The only plus side he could see to this makeshift death mask was Lupin couldn't see how red he had become when he had it on.

 _“Sure you were, Pops._ ” Lupin mocked, dragging a finger  playfully up his chest. Zenigata loathed how with his eyes shut, he could concentrate on little else but the trail Lupin’s electric touch left.  “Just admit you can’t keep your hands off me!”

“Fuc u-”

Lupin mushed a finger to his lips. 

“Shh. No proclamations of love now, Pops. If you crack the plaster we’ll have to start again. I don't think our relationship could handle that.”

Zenigata felt body above him shift upwards and disappear. He let out a groan, but kept his mouth shut.

_How long was this thing going to take to dry?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh boy I can feel the spelling mistakes radiating off this chapter.  
> But alas, I am not scanning over 8000+ words, sorry lol
> 
> Next chapter will be spicy and contain the heist. Also, hopefully, finally, some damn loopzoop.

The bitter coffee mingled with the taste of latex as Zenigata licked his lips. Damn airports. He frowned at the unnatural taste, which only increased his discomfort as the mask pulled at his face. 

 _Wrong_. 

It felt _wrong_.

It must have looked wrong, too. How had no one noticed them yet? 

 

\---------

 

“Our plane is currently boarding.” Goemon noted with a nod towards the large screen. 

As Zenigata looked down to the voice sitting cross legged on the floor, he felt a wave of dissonance. The samurai was wearing his mask paired with a casual t-shirt and ripped jeans, but made no effort to hide his accent or disciplined mannerisms. It created one hell of an image. 

“We’ll hang back for a few more minutes.” Lupin dismissed, reclining in his seat. It wasn’t with the limber, cat-like stretch the thief would usually possess. Rather it was a subdued shuffle back - the kind of stiffness that a man with a desk job would display.

It was like night and day witnessing how seamlessly Lupin merged with his costume in comparison to Goemon. The man not only sounded different, but his very aura seemed to shift. He became something more mundane, to the point he’d vanish if Zenigata didn’t know it was Lupin under all those prosthetics. Just another face in a sea of unremarkable people.

The _perfect_ disguise. 

 

\---------------

 

Dubai’s heat was a different kind of awful. It was dry and pervasive. Even in the shade they had no reprieve from it. As the four ambled out of the airport, Jigen was the first to speak up.

“I swear to god, if we’re too broke to get a hotel with aircon-“ he started, turning to Lupin with a scowl. 

Lupin’s expression wasn’t a promising one. Zenigata cursed as one of the wheels on his luggage veered into the gutter. He pulled it back upright with a forceful yank.

“I’m with Jigen on this. Damn nearly died last night.” Zenigata muttered.

“If he doesn’t then I have more than enough to buy us a suitable room.” Goemon interjected, kneeling to adjust the miscellaneous suitcase he was carrying. The offer seemed kind, but also calculated. Goemon’s traditional garb didn’t look exactly well suited to the heat.

“You sure?” Jigen asked, surprised. “I didn’t know you were cashed up.”

“I do not spend as frivolously as you or Lupin. I have sufficient money from our previous jobs.” He explained, voice tensing with each word. 

“Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“ _Indeed_.”

Zenigata eyes ping-ponged between the three men. He might not have been a seasoned member yet, but even he knew admitting having some cash stashed away was not probably the best move in the presence of broke thieves. Well, one thief in particular. Lupin was looking away, squinting into the bleary heat for an available taxi. Almost as if he didn’t hear. How _convenient_. 

“If any hands go near my bank card, I will remove them.” The samurai sagely finished, before picking up his pace.

“Oh! Taxi! Taxi!” Lupin blurted, stumbling from the curb to catch the driver’s attention.

As the car rolled to a stop, the four men piled in. Jigen, Goemon and Zenigata slipped in the back awkwardly, sardined shoulder to shoulder, while Lupin jumped into the passenger's seat. The man prattled off the name of some hotel as he bucked himself in.

Zenigata felt scepticism flow through him at the scene.

 _So he knows where he’s going_ , _but doesn't have the funds? He’s spontaneous, but calculated. Running into something this under prepared doesn’t seem like Lupin’s M.O at all._

Zenigata’s gut told him the thief had planned this out. If so… what was waiting for them at the hotel? 

A sharp elbow from Jigen drew him back to the present. Jigen grunted his apology as he shuffled more to Goemon’s side of the car. Zenigata grunted his acceptance of said apology.

The cab fell back into silence after that. 

 

\-------------

 

Lupin raked a hand over his cheek and down his neck, enjoying the lack of latex over his face. For the amount he used disguises, he never particularly liked the feeling of them - especially in hotter climates. But the hotel was beautiful. It was spacious, clean. And most importantly it had an _exceptional_ air con system.

But it had come at a cost.

Goemon was truly the vip of the hour. Lupin would have to try and get his hands on some nice sake when they got back to Japan. It was at the very least what the man deserved.

But for that he would need _money_ . It was something he didn’t have and everyone around him was starting to pick up on that. The weight of constantly being interrogated from the others were starting to irritate him. Not just about the mysterious lack of funds - _‘ the hell do you mean you got nothing? What happened to that diamond we nabbed last month? You sold it, right? Right?”_ \- but also why they needed to book a room at this exact hotel. There had been ones that were closer. _Cheaper_. 

But Lupin hadn’t taken them.

So he’d crumbled _. Of course_ he had been informed by a third party to come here. _No_ , he wasn’t going to say who.

He had a feeling they knew. They must have, right? Who else could it possibly be?

But alas, Fujiko was a dirty word around these parts. So he had kept quiet. Let them vegetate in the downstairs buffet for a bit. Maybe take a nap to make up for the hours lost last night. Soften them up before the blow.

The gang had booked two rooms. Goemon and Jigen were happy to share, so buddied up with a large king size bed on the twelfth floor. Lupin had made the decision to share with Pops, two floors below them. It was pure paranoia, but he didn’t want to leave the man unsupervised at such a crucial time. There was a flicker of distrust that flared whenever he saw Pops throw him _that_ look. It was a sad, lost visage.

A click wrung through the silent room, signalising the man occupying his thoughts had returned from his meal. As Pops ambled into view, the ex-cop smacked his lips in satisfaction. 

“You look content.” Lupin said. “Did you give them hell at the all you can eat?”

Zenigata let out a bark of laughter. “Me? No. Jigen? That man is another story. Son of bitch is still down there shovelling his face.”

Lupin hummed his amused acknowledgement. That seemed about right. Zenigata walked around the elegant boomerang shaped coffee table to turn the tv on. The task wasn’t as simple as he’d hoped and Lupin snickered as he watched Pops hunch over while muttering expletives to himself like a technologically challenged gargoyle. 

Lupin was pretty sure it was all remotely controlled. Picking up the remote and mashing the red button, the TV flickered to life and his suspicions were confirmed. 

“Aha!” Pops grinned, stepping back. “ There it is-”

Lupin quietly placed down the remote before Pops turned around. 

He'd let him have this.

 

\-----------

 

Dead to the world from an overdose of pasta and various other carb heavy foods, Zenigata was lying by Lupin’s side on the couch. The insistence by Pops that he was ‘just resting his eyes’ and would move to the bedroom if he really was tired had turned out to be a farce. _Who could ever predict such a shocking revelation._ Lupin thought with a fond shake of his head.

Ignoring his gentle snoring, Lupin instead began to look over the map in front of him. Sprawled out were the floorplans to the venue that would be holding the charity ball in five days. They had just been sent through by his informant. Large and ostentatious were two words he would use to describe the venue, although he had plenty more that were far less polite. To appease all of those rich guests he supposed it would have to be. Lupin couldn't help but smirk at the thought. All of those greedy fools funneling into the building to scam and grow even _richer-_ only to get robbed themselves.

_Serves them right._

A knock startled him.

Not wanting to shout in Zenigata’s ear that the door was unlocked, Lupin hopped out of his seat to open it himself. It was likely just some bellboy or cleaner, anyway.

Unlocking the door, his body stiffened at the sight in front of him. 

Ah. Definitely not staff. A top that low and delightfully _revealing_ would be against work protocol. Unless maybe your employer was a gentlemen's club.

“ _Lupin_.” Fujiko said in half greeting, half accusation as she made a show of crossing her arms. The view of her cleavage was cut off with the gesture and Lupin pouted.

“ _Fuji-cakes_ .” He crooned back, extending a hand. It wasn’t accepted. Fujiko stood still as stone as she stared him down. Eventually he withdrew his arm with a sheepish grin. “Hey, why the cold glare? I haven’t messed up _yet_!”

“Oh, haven’t you?” Fujiko took a step forward. “I bumped into Goemon and Jigen. They were _very_ surprised to see me! Why did you not tell them I was joining you on this job?”

Lupin shrunk back.

  _Shit_.

“Maybe.. uhh? I was _going_ to-”

“The event is in five days, Lupin! When were you going to tell them? On day _three_ ? Day _one_ ? _An hour before the heist?”_

“I’m sorry!” Lupin plead. “On the upside… they know now? It all worked out.”

“Worked ou-” Fujiko let out a throaty scoff of disgust. It didn’t seem right coming out of such a beautiful woman. “Jigen looked like he wanted to shoot me where I stood!”

“..And? Isn’t that just Jigen?”

An exhausted sigh drifted from Fujiko. Not a good sound. A slap usually followed that particular noise.

“Look: I really am sorry.” Lupin plead. It was damage control and both knew it. “I mean it! I’ve just… been preoccupied with something lately.”

That perked the woman ears. Distrustful eyes looked up from under her auburn fringe.

“What do you mean by that? Have something bigger planned after this?”

A wistful sigh escaped Lupin. _If only._

“No. It’s something a little different.” He admitted.

That was when he caught it - her eyes flicking to the gap in the door. Lupin hadn’t closed it completely. That alone wasn’t suspicious, but the panicked glace Lupin had thrown behind himself when he realised where Fujiko was peeking definitely was.

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever is ‘preoccupying’ you is in _there_?” Fujiko hissed, storming forward to reach for the doorknob.

“No! I- just wait.” Lupin wedged himself between her and the door, making a desperate barrier. “ _Stop pushing_!”

“They are!” Her eyes lit up with both rage and the smug joy of vindication. “Lupin! Who the hell is she?”

“ _She?_ ” Lupin out a bubble of nervous laughter. Dear god. That would make more sense, wouldn’t it? Whenever he bent over backwards for another human being, it was because he was trying to get them to _bend over and-_

Lupin pondered going with it for a second. Would it be easier if Fujiko thought some woman was cooped up in his hotel? It certainly would take away the task of trying to explain why goddamn _Tottsan_ himself was slumped on the couch meters away, quietly snoring to himself.

“It’s… can you stop that?” Lupin snapped, slapping Fujiko’s fidgeting hands away from the door. “Just let me talk for a second!”

Surprisingly, the woman obeyed. She lent back with an impish expression that told Lupin if he wanted to plead his case, he had to do it quick.

Lupin took a breath

“First off: _It’s not a girl!_ It’s a man.”

Fujiko’s eyes shot up, before falling back down in a dejected slump. “Well, fuck... I owe Jigen 50$.” 

“I, _what_?”

“Bet him years ago that you were straight as an arrow.” she shrugged, “Guess I can’t pick them as well as I think I can.”

Lupin opened his mouth, only for a sad splutter to escape it.

He’d prefer her rage at letting Zenigata into the gang at this point. It was more straightforward. It also meant he could stop thinking about Jigen and Fujiko making bets about his sexual preferences behind his back. When the hell did they even talk to each other? The thought was a chilling one.

“It’s not - I’m not sleeping with them! They’re a new member of the gang.”

The smug look on Fujiko’s face melted away. The expression underneath was something far more serious. A new woman would have been normal for Lupin. Heck, both he and Fujiko slept around like it was some sort of competition. Maybe it was. A man would have been a twist, but still following the formula. A new member? That was something far rarer.

“How long has he been with you guys?”

“Only a month.”

“You sure of this?” She asked, all playfulness discarded. “Are they really up to it? This job is important to me, Lupin. A _newbie-_ ”

“He’s a seasoned veteran.” Lupin insisted. “Just not in our line of work.”

“... How long have you known this guy?”

Lupin felt a guilty grin stretch across his face.

“Uhh, seven years? Give or take?”

Fujiko paused, looking Lupin over. Maybe it was the thief's paranoia but something in her eyes told him that she knew. After all, how many people in Lupin’s life had stuck around for that long? His entourage - save for Goemon, Jigen and Fujiko - would chop and change. Potential new allieships fell through more often than not. Many flaked out. Even more got caught and thrown in prison. The rest got themselves killed. It was just a reality of the business he was in.

“So I’ve met them before. Must have, if you’ve known them that long.”

Lupin puffed out his cheeks. 

She was on to him. No maybes, Fujiko _definitely_ knew. 

“If you’re gonna ask any more questions, I think I want an attorney present.” The thief whined. 

“No need, I’m done.” She sighed. “I think I know who it is.”

Lupin simply nodded, opening the door.

 

\-------------------

 

In hindsight Lupin probably should have woken Pops up before they’d entered. First impressions, and all that.

A drawn out snore ripped from Pops throat as they walked in. Somehow he’d slumped into an even more undignified position while they had been outside talking. The pose was akin to a sack of potatoes swaddled in a trench coat. He looked like someone’s uncle had fallen asleep after Sunday dinner. It was a sad show. 

On the upside his suit still looked great! Lupin really had outdone himself with the color choice. He couldn’t dwell on his marvellous fashion taste for long though, as he soon heard the sound of clicking heels making a b-line for the door. _Shit_. She was leaving.

“Fujiko! _Darling_ ! _Light of my life_ -” Lupin plead, racing to grab her lightly by the arm. The woman turned to him, a stupefied expression painting her face. She wasn’t mad - no, she was something far worse.

“You know just this once? I didn’t want to be right _._ ” Fujiko paused, scanning Lupin’s own face. “I’m really hoping this is the part you tell me it’s a joke.”

“What- no! Why would it be?”

“Goddamn _Zenigata_? Are you a masochist? Or do you really have so few brain cells left bouncing around in that head of yours that you think this is a good idea?”

“Hey, don’t question my smarts! This is Pops! The only man that could ever keep up with me! And now he’s on _our_ side!”

“You mean the only man who wanted you to rot away in a jail cell!” Fujiko threw a disingenuous glance over his shoulder, to the couch beyond. “... I’m yelling and he’s not waking up. Is he drunk? He looks drunk.”

“No! He’s-” Lupin insisted, only to falter. _Was_ Pops drunk? He had struggled with the tv. But that was just his disconnect with modern tech, wasn’t it? 

“You know, I did wonder what happened to him. He just disappeared after the news broke out.” Fujiko’s tone had turned to distant pity. After some hesitation, she shrugged off Lupin’s hand and walked around the coffee table. Once in range, she ogled at Pops like he was some sort of exhibit. “I thought being deemed a criminal may have been the final straw. That you know, he-” She gestured a line across her neck.

Lupin’s expression darkened. “ _Don’t_.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hit a nerve.” She said, not turning away from the sleeping man.

“He’s - it’s been rough on him.” Lupin settled on. “But hey! You know Pops. He has more tenacity than common sense. He’ll bounce back.”

She made a noise of agreement. “If he does, he’ll be one of the few who did.”

That sentence didn’t sound promising. Lupin closed in on the woman. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Another airy sigh drifted from the woman’s lips. “I know you keep inside your little bubble, but sometimes you should really look around and see what’s happening with the competition. ICPO aren’t messing around. They are doing some serious re-shuffling. It wasn’t just Zenigata who lost his job, lots of officers did. Usually the older ones who weren’t getting results.”

“Hang on there! He didn’t ‘lose his job’, they tried to bump him off!”

“Likely only because he refused to retire. And that chief he reportedly killed? I’m sure he was taken out for the same reasons. Or perhaps he knew too much.” Fujiko brushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Something is happening right now, Lupin. I’m surprised you're not at least a little aware of it.”

“Well I am now.” Lupin sighed, face shifting into a frown as he saw Fujiko prod Pops in his potato sack stomach. It sprung back, with no reaction from the man it belonged to apart from another shuddering snore.

“Nevermind drunk; if he wasn’t breathing I’d doubt he was even alive.” The woman quipped.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Lupin warned, walking over to Fujiko’s side. “Pop’s is a heavy sleeper, but so are grizzly bears. Do you enjoy poking those too?” 

“Depends. Are you planning on letting a bear join the group as well? I hear recruitment standards have been slipping lately.”

Before Lupin could respond, Pops burst into life.

 

\----------------

 

Fujiko was bowled to the ground and in an instant was sporting a pair of cuffs around her wrists. The woman let out a squawk at the sudden impact and swiftly attempted to send a kick into Zenigata’s gut.

Lupin looked on, wide eyed.

“Woah! Pops! Fujiko! _Stop_!”

Only once Zenigata had caught her heeled boot effortlessly in his firm grip, the haze of sleep finally lifted. Zenigata's hard stare softened.

“M-Miss Mine?” Zenigata stumbled back, eyes going wide with recognition as he let her foot go. “I- _shit_! I’m so sorry. Let me help you up-”

“Don’t touch me!” Kicking away Zenigta’s outreached hand, Fujiko stumbled back to her feet. “You’ve done enough.”

“Alright!” Lupin blurted out, voice cracking in a nervous waver. “That was one hell of an introduction, huh? Let's all calm down and try something a little more civil.”

“I’m sorry.” Zenigata said again. His shoulders were slumped.

“If you’re sorry, then take these things off me!” Fujiko threw her bound hands up for emphasis, shaking them in front of the older man. “ _Now_.”

Lupin felt ice enter his veins as Pops face shifted to one of horror.

Fujiko noticed the look too. “... You do have a key? _Right_?”

Zenigata took a cautionary step back before he admitted he’d left them in France.

 

\-----------

 

It was probably best that Fujiko’s hands were bound in that moment.

If they weren’t, Pops criminal career would have come to a very quick end then and there.

 

\-------------

 

“He did _what_?” Jigen burst into laughter, cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth as a lopsided grin enveloped it. 

“Don’t start with that! I can’t get these off now!” Fujiko shouted, entering the hotel room to kick Jigen in his shin. “Dumbass Inspector left the key in another _continent_!”

“So? You damn well deserve it.” Jigen smiled back. 

“I did warn you.” Lupin sheepishly pointed out as he closed the door.

“You’re not helping! How was I supposed to know he’d do _this_!” Fujiko thrust her cuffed hands into Lupin’s chest. “Why does he still even have these things? He’s not a cop anymore!”

“What’d you think he’d do? Wake up with a sweet grin an’ tell you how pretty you are? You said it yourself: he’s a damn ex _cop_ .” Jigen shook his head, like he was trying to shake away his ecstatic stupor. It didn’t work and more laughter bubbled to the surface. “I’m gonna take him out for a drink after this. _Holy shit_.”

Fujiko let out whine, before flopping onto the edge of the bed. “ _Goemon_. Please.” She extended her hands out to the samurai, who was already drawing his sword in preparation. With a precise swing of the blade the handcuffs fell away and clattered onto the floor.

As Fujiko rubbed her wrists mournfully, she turned to Jigen. “So I suppose you’re all for this stupid idea of letting him join, then?” 

“Wasn’t completely sold before. But after this? _Absolutely_.” Jigen said, pointedly ignoring her glare. Nothing could pierce through the aura of pure delight the gunman was emitting. 

“Goemon? You’re the sensible one. Talk reason into both of these idiots!”

“I…” A dash of sweat formed on the younger man’s brow. He swallowed at the sudden scrutiny. “I believe he is dedicated to learning from Lupin the art of being a thief. I admire his eagerness to study such an art. Moreso I would be a hypocrite for casting him out. I am essentially on the same path -  a journey of honing my skills.”

“Ugh! That’s it.” standing up Fujiko stormed over to the door. “I need a drink - or ten. Don’t talk to me again until I’m so hammered I won't remember why I’m mad at you all.” She swivelled to Lupin. In a fluid flick of her wrist, she held up Lupin’s debit card. “And they’re going on _your_ bill.”

“You got it, Fuji-cakes!” Lupin said chipperly to the bouncing mass of fiery red hair leaving the room, fully knowing the card would be declined. “Have fun!” At least being dirt poor had _one_ advantage.

As the door settled behind her with a click, a haggard laugh broke through the silence.

“Damn. That went about as well as I thought It would.” Jigen mused, taking a puff of his cigarette.

Lupin pouted.

She’d come around… eventually.

 

\--------

 

“Sir.” 

Zenigata looked over to the voice. A man dressed in a casual black button down was smiling thinly at him. The boy was waiting staff, he assumed.

“Hrm? Need something?” He clutched at his drink - only a light beer this time. 

“Yes Sir. I don’t wish to alarm you, but there is a woman at the bar who keeps staring at your coat. We’ve had a few cases of theft lately, so I’d recommend keeping your belongings close.”

“Huh? Oh.” Zenigata yanked his coat off the back of his chair, instead folding it in his lap. He felt his face heat up as he realised that for a man who was constantly dealing with criminals, he was pretty shit at protecting his own stuff. 

Then again, he didn’t have much. What would the thieves even find in there? His gun was back in his room. All he had were a few crumbled euros. Nothing of use to some punk trying to make a quick buck out of naive tourists.

The young waiter left and Zenigata snuck a peek at the supposed person stalking him at the bar. It took only a single glance to notice Fujiko sitting at the closest end seat, a colourful cocktail in hand. Her eyes turned away from his, but a moment too late; she’d been caught. Zenigata couldn’t find it in him to be insulted the waiter assumed nefarious motives. Why else _would_ a woman as beautiful as her give him a second glance?

With a sigh, he finished the rest of his beer and hoisted himself up. Shrugging on his coat he made his way over to Fujiko, who responded with a cool gaze.

“You know it’s rude to stare.” Zenigata grumbled, lowering himself onto the barstool beside her.

“Sorry,” Fujiko lifted the drink to her lips.

“I’m sorry too. You know, for the cuffs.” Zenigata offered with a shrug. “Suppose they’re in tiny pieces now. Goemon’s the only one that could get em’ off that quickly.”

“They’re certainly not in any state to arrest criminals.” She stiffly agreed. 

“Well that’s not a problem.” Zenigata sighed. “I don’t do that anymore.” 

“No, you don’t.” Her eyes finally moved from the glass she was holding and over to Zenigata. “But that doesn’t make you one of us, either.” 

“I am in the eyes of the law.” Zenigata bit back. It still hurt, all this time later. “I'm nothing but a criminal now. ICPO left me for damn dirt.”

“Yes, I saw the news along with the rest of the world." Fujiko paused. "You didn’t do it, did you?”

Zenigata scoffed. “Course not. If I hated my boss that damn much I would have talked to him, or taken it up with a higher up - hell i would have _quit_ before I’d killed him! Wasn’t even in the country when it happened - I only found out when cops suddenly were trying to put a bullet in my head.”

Fujiko didn’t reply. Instead she took a lingering sip of her cocktail. As the music being played over the PA system chimed between them, Zenigata couldn’t help but steal a glance at the woman. She seemed to be mulling something over. Fujiko was known for choosing her words carefully.

Zenigata however wasn’t one for such tact.

“If you refuse to work with me, you can just say it.” He grumbled, breaking the silence. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It’s not that.” She shook her head. “You’re… _capable_.”

“Then what’s with the silence?” Zenigata hated talks with Fujiko. They had a tendency to drag and he was an impatient man.

“Why don’t we get a drink for you first?” She offered with a smile. It was an obvious deflection. “A real one; none of that light beer nonsense. The night is young. We have plenty of time to talk.”

As she waved the barman over, Zenigata stopped her. 

“Not interested - I don’t drink much these days.”

Fujiko threw him a scrupulous look. “ _You_? Not drinking?” The woman let out a laugh. “Since when?”

 _Since I nearly drank myself to death and put Lupin in danger,_ were the words that almost left his mouth. He’d been mindful of his alcohol intake as of late. Zenigata never wanted to feel as useless as he had that night back at the hideout. Tamare could have easily caught him then and there; it was a miracle he had let him go.

The dark stare that he held must have been answer enough for Fujiko. She waved the barman away with a sigh. Just like that, her bubbly ruse fizzled out.

“Listen. I'm not saying this to be a bitch but-“ she hesitated.

“But _what_?”

“... I don’t think you’re capable of being what Lupin wants you to be. This isn't _you_ , Zeni.”

The words settled on Zenigata far gentler than they had any right to. Like the supportive hand on your shoulder at a funeral. They’d been said with a concern that made them cut all that deeper. It mirrored all the weeks of self doubt and dissonance that had bounced around in his own mind. Zenigata felt his shoulders tense.

“I don’t think you’re going to betray us,” Fujiko continued, “- you’re a devoted man. If you promised Lupin you’re going through with this, then for whatever crazy reason you two have made up in your heads, you’ll do it.  But is this what you want? I can’t imagine it is.”

“What does it matter to you?” Zenigata tried to distract himself by looking at the colourful bottles lining the far wall of the bar. “If I do the job, then who cares?”

“Because Lupin’s heart is my business, Zeni. And right now he seems to be obsessed with you.” 

“You sound almost jealous, Miss Mine.” Zenigata snapped back. It was a childish insult, he knew. He just didn’t want to have this conversation. Not ever. Especially not with Fujiko.

“I’m really not.” The woman said, weariness in her voice. To his surprise, she then stood up.

“I can see you don’t want to talk.” Fujiko said as she picked up her clutch and slid the stool back under the bar. “But I will say this: There are many careers a man like you could pursue. Ones that suit your far better. What about a private investigator? Ones with integrity are hard to find. I could see you doing _that_.”

“I’ll think about it, Mine.” He grunted back at her. In reality the thought hadn’t even been absorbed. A damn private detective? That had nothing to do with Lupin.

With a polite nod she was gone.

 

\----------

 

Once left alone at the bar, Zenigata’s eyes drifted to the colourful drink now abandoned by its owner. It was some cherry red concoction, with sugar dusting the rim. It looked disgusting. But _god_ , did he crave a drink right now. He picked it up, sniffing it. Some sickly sweet lacquer hit his nose.

With a wrinkle of of disgust, he placed it back down.

He was desperate - but not _that_ desperate.

 

—————-

 

That night, Lupin was restless.

He poked at the pillow Zenigata had unceremoniously shoved in the separating space between their bodies. Even though the offending cushion made him feel more dejected than he would care to admit, the fluffy barrier separating him and Pops wasn’t what was occupying his thoughts - no, that’d just been Zenigata’s reaction to an offhand comment from the thief that they could be using the bed _for more interesting activities._ It was a dumb joke; the crude ones never did go down well with Zenigata. But tonight the man had been in a particularly foul mood and Lupin had no clue why. 

He could only hope Pops was in a better mood in the morning, as Lupin’s mind planned tomorrow's events. One of Fujiko’s comments had stuck with him, namely when she’d called Zeni a newbie. Sure, it had been done before she’d known of his true identity, but the comment still stood. The man _didn’t_ have experience in stealing other than the occasional pinching of some hotel towels; Lupin hadn’t dared push him any more than that.

But they were going to pull off a high stakes heist in just a few days. The time to be coy had passed. So tomorrow he would get Pops to test his mettle a little more. It didn’t have to be flashy or ostentatious, it wasn’t about the physical aspect. Pops had the skill to rob in spades. But was he mentally prepared? Lupin wasn’t so sure. This little trial would be to show Lupin that the ex-cop _could_. A practical test, of course. But the thievery was the fun part to think about. Maybe it would be a handful of notes from a coffee shop till. Or with Lupin’s long standing love affair for all things shiny, perhaps Zenigata would slip a watch from one of the many jewellery stores that surrounded their hotel.

Lupin liked to envision the latter the most. Replaying in his head the image of Pops wrapping his hands timidly around a delicate piece of jewellery and slipping it into his jacket pocket sent his mind into overdrive. Something that seemed so incomprehensible months ago was now unfurling in front of him in real time. 

If the thought alone made him feel like this, witnessing it in real life would be unparalleled. Tomorrow couldn’t come quickly enough.

Lupin didn’t consider himself a teacher. If Goe or Jigen had picked up anything from him it was due to their own initiative. A teacher had to have certain properties - good patience and communication, namely. Lupin rarely explained what he was doing, or slowed down to show Goemon or Jigen the steps.

But for Pops? He wanted to show him everything, just so he could see the ex cop emulate it with the same heady dedication and reverence he did for anything that concerned Lupin. He wanted to grab the older man’s hands and show him exactly how he wanted this to go. 

He wanted to shape Zenigata into the _perfect_ thief.

 

\---------------

  
  
_Lupin,_

_Gone for a walk with Jigen. Getting supplies. Be back by Lunch._

  
  


Lupin frowned down at the note that’d been pinned to the door. 

_That’s what you get for sleeping in, dumbass._

Jigen had pounced on Pops first. Now he would have to wait a few more hours to tell Zenigata of his plans. Lupin tore off the note, looking down at the scribble that constituted Pops terrible handwriting. What Jigen’s intentions were, Lupin wasn’t sure. Maybe it _was_ just a casual walk… the two appeared to have become unlikely friends. A celebratory lunch for antagonising Fujiko (which was easily the fastest route to the tetchy man's heart) seemed likely. 

Though it was also possible it was an interrogation; Pops had been acting shifty lately. Jigen didn’t take kindly to liars or snitches. Either way, Lupin hoped his old friend didn't poke too deep if that was the situation. If Zenigata came back in a shitty mood, his little test might need to be put on hold even _longer_. Lupin didn't want analyse why that thought was so painful to him. 

 

\------------

 

The minute they returned, he could tell Jigen had kept to the niceties. In fact, Zenigata seemed far happier than the scowling man he had fallen asleep next to last night. Whatever they’d gotten up to, it had put Pops in a glowing mood. _Thank god_. It certainly had his own plans a lot easier.

Pops was beaming from ear to ear as he entered the hotel lobby, a distinct bounce in his walk as he held a conversation with Jigen. When Zenigata slapped a hand on the other’s shoulder and laughed - a loud, gravelly rumble that Lupin swore he could feel through the legs of his chair - Jigen seemed to vanish completely in the others bombastic presence. Standing nearly a head taller than anyone else in the room, Zenigata certainly could never blend into a crowd easily. It would have to be something Lupin considered moving forward. Maybe he could hide him in plain sight? A builder, a gardener, a bodyguard. Jobs like that.

_“Rupan!”_

Lupin snapped his head up, eyes wide. A laugh tumbled out of his mouth as he realised that tone still shot a sense of fear in him. He was actually standing up, his body ready to bolt. It was a Pavlovian response at this point. 

He observed as several heads turned to Pops in unison, gawking at the man who had just screamed gibberish in the entrance of the hotel lobby. Zenigata became bashful, raising a hand to his new audience. He obviously hadn’t been aware of his volume - the habit was just as ingrained in him too, it seemed. With his head bowed Zenigata walked past the ogling stares.

“-Maybe use your indoor voice next time, Old man.” Lupin heard Jigen finish with a fond tone.

“Naww, I‘m used to it!” Lupin snickered. “How else am I supposed to know you’re around Pops? You’re so _tiny_ and _demure_!”

“Very funny, Lupin.” Zenigata grumbled. “But not even you can damper my joy today.”

“Yeah, I noticed the little hop in your step.” Lupin hummed. “Where the hell did Jigen take you? Do I even want to know?”

“After the limousine ride with the twelve bikini models hand feeding me grapes, I stopped asking questions.” Zenigata deadpanned. “Where do you damn think? We went out to get a bite to eat. Oh, and to buy these-”

A plastic bag was shimmied from where it was tucked under his arm, before Jigen stopped him.

“Maybe don’t pull those out here.” Jigen warned. “Ya know, in public.”

 

\--------

 

It was a pair of handcuffs, complete with a functional set of keys.

What else had Lupin expected? 

The two men had gone to a shady ammunition store. After all, it was one of Jigen’s favourite places to be. Surrounded by guns and all manner of other things that went _boom_? Truly paradise on earth. Places like that would often sell restraints and other odd pieces snatched from cops or the military. Not that Lupin really paid attention to that side of business.

“They’re from the 90’s, I can tell from the design. Already worn in so makes them quick to shut.” Zenigata grinned, bouncing the new cuffs in his hand. He caught them by the chain in the middle. “Nice n’ weighty, too! I think I like them more than my old ones!”

“Got him some new clips for his glock as well. Might as well get him kitted up before the big day” Jigen said, walking over to the two men. “Though doubt he’s gonna gush over those like he is _that_.”

“You know you’re putting me in a hell of a position.” Lupin muttered, watching Zenigata stare at his new toy with a giddiness he hadn’t seen in days.

Jigen raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You got him an awesome pair of handcuffs! How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Jigen scoffed in response, walking over to the couch and flopping down. Lupin almost had the mind to remind him this wasn’t his hotel room, but that seemed a little too petty even for him. Especially when neither room had come out of his pocket. “It’s not a competition, Lupin.”

“It is! _Everything_ is! And I was winning until you pulled this.”

“Oh, shut it. Both of you.” Zenigata grumbled, slipping the cuffs into his breast pocket and turning away. “Trust me, I despise you both _equally_.”

Lupin threw a sly smile in response. He’d believe the words coming out of Pops mouth a little more if it weren't for the other’s eyes darting away. The thief grinned wider - Pops never really did know how to deal with attention.

“In any case, it’s good you got another pair. Can’t have your first debut without your signature weapon! It would be like Goemon without Zantetsuken! Jigen without his pistol! Fujiko without…” Lupin paused. “ _Well-_ ”

“-Whipping her tits out and backstabbing us?”

Lupin crossed his arms. “I was going to settle on ‘using her feminine charms.”

Jigen shrugged. “I like mine better.”

“I’m sure you do.” Lupin sighed, joining him on the sofa.

 

\----------

 

Lunch was a casual affair. A downtown cafe, away from the pricier and more lavish shops that Dubai held. It was good for what Lupin was planning to do. It also suited his wallet far better.

“We could have just eaten at the hotel. Coulda kept training that way.” Zenigata grumbled.

“The complimentary snackbar doesn’t count as a meal - despite what you may think. C’mon! You were practising with them for hours.” Lupin whined. He had been watching Zenigata throw those handcuffs _again_ and _again_ at a lamp in the corner of the room. 

Lupin’s invitation to leave the hotel or do anything but sit around and _repeatedly arrest a light fixture for three hours_ had been turned down at first. Pops apparently needed to train to become one with the foreign hunks of metal. It seemed like an excuse to Lupin. Zenigata hadn’t missed a single toss, nor likely ever would.

Which was lucky. If they’d landed near him, Lupin would have thrown them out of the window. 

But Pops had eventually caved in and here they were. They were outside. They were _alone_. 

He could finally bring up his little proposition.

 

\-----------------------

 

“You know, my plans are almost complete.”  Lupin hummed. “Just a tweak here; a change in placement there. Then we should be all systems go! I even figured out what you’re gonna do… I think.”

Zenigata looked up from his forkful of whipped cream and ganache. It was the sad final mouthfuls of the cake he’d ordered. “When is the heist? Soon?” 

Lupin gave a nod back. He had long finished his coffee and sandwiches, so was stuck in the mildly awkward situation of watching the older man eat. “Yup. Just four more days. Are you excited?”

“I-” Zenigata stopped, shoving the fork in his mouth. He mulled it over as he ate. “-...no. This still doesn't feel right.”

Lupin frowned. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“It’s the best answer I have right now.” Zenigata pushed his empty plate to the side. “I’m loyal to you, Lupin. You have my word on that. I said I’m going to do this - and I am.”

Lupin nodded, regarding the man’s stiff posture. Zenigata still hadn’t come to terms with his new role and likely wouldn't in time for the heist. Lupin had to accept that. It wasn’t the best outcome, but a realistic one.

Luckily for Lupin, Pops was a hypocrisy. What his mouth prattled off and his body did were usually two separate things. There was a side to him that was endlessly soft and caring. Zenigata was quite maternal at times - motherly, even. It was the side the thief saw most days now. A quieter, more considerate man.

One that regularly told Lupin he was a monkey faced bastard, still a _kind_ man nonetheless.

But that still didn’t negate the times prior he’d seen Zenigata throw decency to the wayside as he ran through busy streets with his cop car, missing civilians by mere inches. All those times he’d _punched_ and _shot_ and _screamed_. Often at Lupin, often all at the same time. The man was a tornado of violence and sheer will. Zenigata had made a career based around it, so surely he enjoyed it?

Either way, Lupin delighted in it - the fire in Zenigata’s eyes when he got into that headspace was like nothing else.

 _That_ was the Pops Lupin knew most intimately. 

“I think you just need to dip your toe in the water so to speak. Give it a little test run.” Lupin said as he stood up. The words had come out a little too eagerly, but Lupin couldn’t find it in him to care. He’d waited long enough. Zenigata mirrored the action, standing also. “It will help both of us figure out how this is going to work.”

Zenigata cast a sceptical eye over Lupin. “I’m sure you’re bringing this up because you’ve already planned something.” He sighed, but didn’t look completely opposed like Lupin feared he would. “... What are you suggesting?”

 

\-----------

 

Zenigata had a distinct look when he was deep in thought. His eyes glazed a little. His brow settled into a frown. Lupin knew the look well - the slightly off putting scowl used to make an appearance whenever he was scanning over one of Lupin’s disguises, or pacing around the location for the next robbery like a guard dog waiting for the signal. The steely gaze bore through Lupin, though he’d never admit it to a living soul.

He’d never enjoyed that look. But as it was being cast across shop fronts and pop up booths and not at him, Lupin felt his opinion shift. He liked that cold gaze greatly when he knew Pops was using it for something the thief considered worthwhile.

“Alright.”

Lupin flinched at the gravelly voice. He'd been so caught up in Zenigata’s expression he’d forgotten himself. “...Alright?”

Zenigata grunted confirmation, like that was helpful at all. “That Jewellery store over there. It’s busy.” he elaborated. “Seems like a suitable place.”

“Oh.” Lupin replied, casting his eyes over to the shop Zenigata had been staring so intensely at. Sure enough, the small boutique was bustling. “So it is. Good eye, Pops.” Through the three pane window front, Lupin saw one cashier on the floor. She was run off her feet - and had just walked into the backroom, leaving the whole store unattended. Lupin nodded his quiet approval. 

Lupin turned to Zenigata, who (apart from staring intently) was doing little else.

Lupin waited.

Then waited some more.

“You’re doing a great impersonation of a statue, Zeni.” A playful slap at Pops arm drew him back to the present. “Gonna wait until lockup time and come back to life? C’mon! The moment will pass if you wait too long.”

“I know that!” Zenigata snapped, before taking a slow breath. “I just- ah, to hell with it. Hold my coat. Let’s get this over with.”

Lupin accepted the armful of grey fabric as it was shrugged off Zenigata’s broad shoulders and thrown in his direction. Folding the garment into a parcel shape, he watched the man march into the store. The antithesis of subtlety - Pops looked more like he was ready to siege the place than quietly pocket something - but Lupin looked on in fascination anyway. He supposed in an odd way, the man was on his own conquest.

For the sake of remaining inconspicuous, Lupin found a bench to sit on. The coat was placed carefully beside him as he waited with his hands on his knees and bated breath. The angle wasn’t good - no part of Zenigata was visible, save for the brim of his hat as it bobbed around the store. Unlike in his dreams, Lupin couldn’t see his deft hands or his face flicker in doubt. The thief slumped into the seat, bored.

That was until Pops came into view. 

He’d blatantly walked up to the storefront window, full body on display as he scanned the outside for Lupin. When the others eyes finally landed on him, Lupin felt caught out. He could see the man now. _Clearly_ . As could everyone else in the street. Lupin was about to shrug his shoulders or give a shake of his head, something to convey _‘hey, what the fuck are you doing’_ when -

Pops held a watch up. Then a second one. He raised them up, a watch in each hand.

Lupin looked on, utterly dumbfounded. What was he doing? Did he want to get caught and this was some weird self sacrifice?

No it couldn't be, because Pops face was quickly shifting into one of impatience. Zenigata threw a glance over his shoulder - and into the extremely crowded store - before turning back to Lupin. He was fearful of being caught, yet was continuing to pull this stupid stunt. Was it some strange show of prowess to Lupin? Because he wasn’t impressed. He was confused. And annoyed.

That’s when Lupin suddenly realised what was happening.

Zenigata wanted him to _pick_ one.

 _Oh_.

Lupin felt a heat burst in his chest, like he’d just been offered the most sacred decision he could be given. As his eyes bounced between the two options, he scrambled to sit up straight. He saw a glimmer of gold in Pops left hand. He did always prefer the warm tones of gold over other precious metals. With a discreet gesture, he pointed to that side.

Zenigata nodded before receding back into the swarm of people in the tiny store. 

Lupin let out a puff of air he hadn’t been aware he was holding in. 

 

\----------------

 

The watch had been gently cradled in Lupin’s hands the whole taxi ride back. It was a decent watch - only gold plated, but sturdy and well crafted. Not really Lupin’s style, but knowing how it had come into his possession? It was one of his greatest prizes.

“I can’t believe you got nervous.” Pops let out a laugh. It was a childish sounding titter and Lupin shook his head lightly at it. Pops had become talkative since they left the mall; probably due to the lingering adrenaline. It was a nice change though, Lupin welcomed it.

“ _Nervous_? What makes you say that?” Lupin asked as he angled the watch in his hands. It glimmered proudly in response.

“Your heartbeat.” Zenigata shifted in his seat. “Could feel it thumping in your hands when you handed my coat back.”

Lupin faced the man, but said nothing.

Zenigata looked proud of his deduction. Lupin didn’t have the heart to tell him that hadn’t been nerves.

It had been _excitement_.

 

\-----------

 

Lupin feels like a proud parent holding up their child’s newest finger painting, when he shows the watch to the gang. At this Zenigata leaves the room with a embarrassed grumble, the attention too much for him

“The old man really nabbed it? Huh.” Jigen mused, looking at the piece of jewellery over, before tossing it onto Goemon’s lap.

The samurai regarded it with little interest, before handing it to Fujiko.

“If he stole this tacky fake gold watch, then truly he must be a _master_ in thievery.” She said with a sarcastic bite.

“Hey! It’s not fake gold.” Lupin corrected. “It’s _gold plated ._  I checked.”

“Oh, it is too.” The woman sighed, looking it over a second time. “Well that just makes all the difference. I’m a changed woman.”

“You’re all really killing my victory here.” Lupin whined. He snatched the (admittedly pretty tacky looking) timepiece out of Fujiko’s hand and waved it around for emphasis. “Zenigata just stole something! _Pops!”_

As he looked over the three bored faces, he let out a dejected puff of air.

Why did no one else care about this? Did they really think that little of Pops abilities, or could they just not visualise the man working within the group? Lupin supposed that's where his leadership and vision came in. They'd all see soon enough.

"Hey." Jigen suddenly spoke up. It was a tentative tone, which piqued Lupin's interest.

"Yeah?"

"Can I see that watch again?"

Lupin grinned wide. Finally some recognition for his feat!

"Sure!" He chimed as he tossed the watch into the gunman's lap. 

With a nod of thanks Jigen picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He then took off the little plastic clip the sat around the crown and began to adjust the time. Once wound, he polished the glass with a puff of breath before wiping it down with his sleeve.

Jigen then began put it on.

Lupin sputtered out an offended scoff as he snatched the item away.

"Hey! What the hell?" Jigen shouted, his hands still frozen in a cruel pantomime of fastening the strap.

"It's _mine_!" Lupin snapped back, pressing the watch possessively to his chest. "Pops gave it to _me_ ; said he had no need for it."

" _Yours_? What use do you have for that shitty thing?" Jigen rolled his eyes. "You have a watch already, Lupin. It can shoot fucking laser beams."

Indeed Lupin had a watch. And it did shoot lasers. It also had a compass, tracking abilities, a camera and an emergency grapple hook. But that one hadn’t been given to him by Pops. But everyone was staring at him now, and he was starting to feel self conscious. He dared to look over to Fujiko. Her gaze was like glass. 

"It's not a trophy to your great triumph, Lupin." The woman sighed. "It's an forty dollar watch that will ware down to a silver colour in a couple of months. Probably isn't even water resistant. Just give the damn thing to Jigen."

Knowing he had lost this battle, Lupin conceded. He was being a child. Fujiko, in her beauty and wisdom was right.

... It still didn't stop the pang of jealously that flared within Lupin every time he saw that shimmer of gold under Jigen's cuffed sleeve.

 

 

 

 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter this time. I want to have the next chapter purely dedicated to the heist, so i thought i'd just make this part it's own thing

The resort seemed to tower over the tiny fiat as the two men pulled up. Lupin yanked the handbrake on and swivelled to look at the passenger side, which currently seemed to host a B grade Hollywood swamp monster. The paper swaddled mass of Zenigata shifted and cursed beside him, tugging and turning the messy accordion of a map in his hands. _Ever the traditionalist,_ Lupin thought with a sigh. He’d offered the man his iPhone, but it had been quickly turned down. Lupin looked back to the street outside. The stark white exterior of the building created a blinding halo in the midday light, as if it was silently bragging how grander it looked than the surrounding shops and buildings.

“Right; here we are!” Lupin announced, slapping the steering wheel. He honestly wasn’t sure if Pops could see out his side of the car. 

“I _know_.” Zenigata chastely hissed back, as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. The map was discarded in a crumpled nest on the back seat. 

“Sniffed it out on that map of yours?” Lupin teased, taking a final glance at the sad mass of paper. 

“... No.” Zenigata admitted. “But I’ve been here before. Well, to the gallery down the road.”

“You have?” Lupin blinked, releasing the implication. “ _We_ have? _When_?”

Zenigata threw him a look. “You don’t even remember? You tried to steal some damn pearl! Don’t know the name of it. Only have the vivid memory of getting lost in the desert in the aftermath.”

 “Oh yeah… I remember now!” Lupin scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “The Noor Pearl theft of 95”! Talk about a blast from the past. If it’s any compensation I didn’t even get to keep it; Fujiko got that honor.”

Zenigata scoffed. “It’s not. On the sixth day, three of my officers tried to _cannibalise me_.” 

The doors locked with a hollow _thunk_ as Lupin twisted the key. “Don’t blame them. A big boy like you? Bet you looked like a walking hunk of steak. Could feed the group for a whole month!”

“ _Lupin_.” Zenigata snapped reflexively.

Lupin offered a carefree smile. “But hey! It is pretty wild to think about; the two of us were here under completely different circumstances all those years ago.”

“Hmm.” 

Zenigata looked out over the crowds of tourists, a wistful glint in his eye. Lupin regarded the man, amused. _Nostalgia_ : it was one hell of a drug. There had been little joy when the heist had occurred, even on Lupin’s end. They had made off with the pearl (well, until Fujiko had snatched it up) but _god_ , what a failure it had been on every other conceivable level. No wonder he had attempted to purge it from his memory banks. Goemon had gotten shot - Jigen had slipped off the roof and split his right hand open. Lupin walked around the car, joining Zenigata. He leaned against the frame of the fiat and shoved his hands in his pockets. It was hard to imagine the now peaceful scene had been the spot of a cop infested shootout. 

“I remember you and Jigen pretended to be distressed tourists.” Zenigata mused. “Then you shoved me in a trunk when I tried to fix your ‘broken’ car.” 

“Only after you chased us for seven miles on a stolen dirt bike-“

“ _-Borrowed_.”

“What?”

“Thieves steal.” Zenigata corrected. “Cops borrow.”

Lupin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. All I know is we couldn’t shake you on your “borrowed _”_ bike. We had to get creative.” 

”Hmm.”

There was another pause of contemplation - Zenigata demanded it. His square shoulders didn’t look like they were ready to move any time soon. Lupin joined him, leaning fully on the tiny car and sharing a moment for what once was. It felt a little dramatic; this wasn’t the last location Pops had even chased him. It had no significance at all to either of them. Why else would it have been entirely forgotten by the thief?

“I thought I had all the time in the world.” Zenigata quietly admitted, breaking the silence. “It felt like we were going to both live forever - or die at the same time. I never realised it could end any other way.”

As the words curled around him, the more Lupin decided he hated them. Their story wasn’t over in any sense. They were just getting started.

“You’re talking like a dead man, Zeni.” Lupin said tersely. “Speaking like that doesn’t do you any good.”

Zenigata made another monotonous grunt of agreement, but nothing more. Not interested in letting the man brood, Lupin slapped his arm.

“Hey, do you know where you are right now? Who you’re with?”

Lupin counted the beats of silence before Zenigata crumpled with a sigh.

“Jesus-  you want me to actually answer that?”

“ _Yes_!”

Taking in his surroundings, Zenigata turned his tired eyes back to Lupin. “I’m in an overdeveloped tourist sinkhole that’s hotter than the devil’s anus… and I’m with _you_.”

Lupin let out air slowly through his nose as he steepled his fingers. “Ok; how about we workshop that a little? - you’re in one of the most illustrious trading hubs in the world, with the thief you spent every waking hour chasing. He respects you and wants to show you the ropes!”

The bridal store across the road must have been selling the most breathtaking garments known to man, because Zenigata didn’t tear his eyes from it. He didn’t do anything, in fact. 

“I’m _here_ !” Lupin pushed, the frustrated edge in his voice not quite hidden by his playful waver. “You _caught me,_ Pops."

The comment wasn’t even worthy of a grunt this time. When Lupin was met with stoic silence, he lifted himself off the fiat with a huff.

“You know, I’m _trying_ to-” The lecture died as Lupin finally got a good look at Zenigata’s face. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes, while his cheeks had taken on an uneven red blotchiness that sometimes occurred when people cried. Lupin always found that strange - Fujiko had the same affliction too, at least when she was crying for real and not the crocodile tears she often put on.  

Lupin didn’t know what his own face looked like when he cried. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he had - certainly not as an adult. He didn’t know if he was able to at this point; it was so ingrained in him to laugh it off with a joke and push it down. Was that a badge of honor? A testament to his iron will? Or just a sign that the man in front of him was more emotionally liberated than Lupin could ever be?

As the dam broke and tears started trickling down his cheeks, Zenigata sniffed (a gross, wet sound that Lupin hated. Yet another reason why he usually vanished when people needed comforting) and turned away. Or tried, it was slightly hard with their proximity. 

“Sorry -I.” A frustrated noise bubbled from Zenigata’s chest. “It’s just... a lot. I feel too much sometimes. I can’t help it.”

“I know.” Lupin cooed sympathetically, even though he in fact didn’t know. He didn’t have a clue what Pops was feeling, or why he’d started crying. He’d never let his heart get so enveloped by anything in his life. Even Fujiko. It made him a little envious.

Maybe he wanted to feel that swept up in something. 

 

\-------------

 

“I recognise the owner - he’s in that north hallway.”

Lupin adjusted his glasses. It was a pathetic disguise, but one that worked well enough if the locals weren’t expecting international thief Lupin the Third to wander into their establishment. Which was most the time, really. It was especially necessary, as Zenigata (while jumping at the chance to scope the building out with him) had flat out refused any prosthetics.

It seemed the ex-Inspector’s devotion did have limits - and that line was wearing latex over his face in forty five degree heat. Lupin could work with that.

“You remember some random man’s face from a decade ago?” Lupin whistled, impressed.

“Hah! Wish my memory was that sharp. I just saw him on the news this morning. This event is attracting the press you know.” 

Ah. That made more sense.

“Mm. Hope they’ve got their cameras ready for what’s to come.” Lupin winked as he lent over and tried to squint through the crowds of tourists for the man. Eventually Lupin located him. Smoking by a large window was a stout male, wearing a rather constrictive looking turtleneck and thick glasses. 

“That’s the owner?”

“Pretty sure.” Zenigata crossed his arms, a look of disgust filling his face. “The more I stare, the more he looks like my old boss.”

Lupin quirked a brow. “Thought you didn't mind the Commissioner?”

“Not ICPO. My boss when I was with the Tokyo police. I couldn’t stand the asshole.” 

Lupin smiled. “Well, now you can imagine you’re gonna rob him.”

“ _Good_.”

A snort of laughter came out of Lupin at Pops childish words.

The main lobby made way to a beautiful white stone hallway that stretched as far as the eye could see. Past this point, they would have to double down on the dumb lost tourist act to pull their trespassing off. While not technically locked away to the public, it certainly wasn’t normal to see two Japanese men puttering around in the more secluded rooms.

Lupin twisted around to retrieve a box from the backpack, but stopped himself. He almost forgot; this was Pops crash course before the real deal. Maybe he should get Zenigata to do the busy work? It would help concrete where items were kept in the man’s mind. 

“Hey, Zeni. You remember that red box you packed? Wanna grab it for me?”

Zenigata nodded and disappeared behind him. The zipper hummed as it was parted back and soon Lupin could feel someone rummaging around. It was nice - well not really, Zenigata clearly had no idea where said box was - but the sensation was similar to those massage chairs you’d see for sale in malls on occasion. Lupin arched into the touch, hoping maybe he’d get a free back rub out of it.

The motion wasn’t lost on Zenigata, who let out a startled noise. “What are you-?”

“Don’t stop! You’re really helping kneed out some of the aches in my back!” Lupin playfully sighed. “Can you go a bit lower? I’m told I hold a lot of _tension_ there by my masseur.”

Immediately Lupin could tell he’d pushed Zenigata too far. The hands were yanked out of the bag like they’d been submerged in lava.

Lupin turned in time to see the man storming away - in the completely wrong direction. _Naturally_. 

“Pops, c’mon.” Lupin rolled his eyes, shouting after the man who was already out of reach. Zenigata could really cover some ground when he wanted to with those long legs. “I was just teasing! Stop sulking and come back!.”

“No! Get damn the box yourself!” The man snapped back. 

Lupin could only shake his head. _Someone was feeling touchy today._ He retrieved the small parcel from the bag and began to unravel it. Glancing up, he noticed Pops had stopped a few feet away. His angry expression had been replaced with something more contemplative. Walking over to join him, Lupin took in the large painting on the far wall that was holding the man’s attention.

Taking a step closer, he looked at the signature in the corner. _F. Fabbi_. 

Lupin looked back up.

 “... That’s a fake.”

Zenigata jumped a little at the voice, but just as quickly settled.

“I thought something about it looked… off. Seen this painting before in Venice. It wasn’t this one. This piece is new. But a hoighty millionaire resort like this? You’d think they’d shun replicas.”

Lupin shrugged as he pulled a small device out of its case and begun to fiddle with it.

“Who knows? All I know is those strokes are all wrong for a Fabio. Sure, his style was loose, but not this messy. And like you said: that oil paint is new.”

Zenigata grunted his agreement. 

It sounded like a happy grunt, Lupin noted. He shook his head. What universe he had pulled himself into that he was starting to be able to differentiate those noises? A modern day Jane Goodall, he was turning into. Holding the now empty red box between his knees, Lupin turned to face Zenigata with the tiny cargo it had contained.

“Hey, put this on your hat.” Lupin instructed, holding the small gadget up.

Pops accepted the small piece of metal, inspecting it between his pinched fingers.

“What does it do?”

“It’ll trace your steps and give us a more accurate data about the building. How far everything is, how long it will take to bolt out of here. You know, that sort of thing.”

“I see.”

Thankfully, the man obeyed. Zenigata clipped the machine in the discrete shade of his brim, where it vanished.

 

\--------------

 

“Another fake.”

Lupin frowned, taking in the borderline fresh oils. Zenigata was right. Even more brazenly replicated than the last, the piece was not an original.

“Strange, it’s like they're not even trying.” Lupin shook his head, slowing his steps to fall back into stride with Zenigata. The other had taken his instruction to keep his steps consistent so the device could get an accurate reading as gospel, and refused to walk any faster than a saunter.

Lupin was starting the think the other man was just being pedantic on purpose. Zenigata was the king of petty payback, after all.

“It feels like perhaps they needed quick replacements.” Zenigata mused as the scanned the piece over. “Can’t have your star pieces missing before such a big event.”

The gruff snort of laughter that followed took Lupin off guard.

“What so funny?”

“Just reminds me of one of your rushed pieces.” Zenigata lent against the railing, finally coming to a halt (proving that he was walking painfully slow on purpose, Lupin goddamn knew it). “Could always tell you were so proud of em’.”

“Hey!” Lupin snapped. “That’s because they were good! I can whip up a Monet in mere days. A Rembrandt in under an hour!”

Zenigata turned away. “No, you can’t. They were always shoddy. The brush strokes always looked completely different from the original artwork. Even when you got it right, the goddamn _texture-_ ”

Lupin made a wounded noise. Geez, Zenigata really wasn’t even in the ballpark of messing around was he? “Oof, Pops. You got any other harsh comments about my work you wanna wound me with?”

“I’m not saying it to be cruel. Just use more oils in the paints next time. I know it means it takes longer to dry, but it's a worthwhile trade off. I always could tell one of your hastier fakes from the consistency. And the smell. Oil takes months to stop smelling so strong.”

There was something in Pops eyes that was softer now. He realised the man was giving him genuine feedback. Lupin _did_ struggle with matching strokes. Nor did he ever mix enough thinners into his oils. It was a weird feeling, knowing that such a simple statement might have been shining a light on some trade secret Pops had held close to his heart for years. Lupin knew Inspector Zenigata had his quirks and tricks, just like Lupin had his.

Now they were of little use, could they lay them bare to each other? Would it be rude to even ask?

This was something special, wasn’t it? He wondered if any other thief on earth had ever gotten this chance; the opportunity to sit with their opposing force and discuss every wrong move, every flaw in detail - outside of a prison cell, that was. Seeing the chance, Lupin took it.

“Hey, Pops?”

“I’m not apologising, Lupin.” Zenigata grumbled. “I’m right.”

Lupin laughed. “I know! That’s what I wanna ask you about.”

 

———————-

 

At first it came out as a trickle:

 

_“So... how did you always manage to track me down?”_

_“Eyewitness reports, mostly. You’re not subtle donned in your gaudy jackets, Lupin.”_

_“O-oh. I suppose I’m not.”_

 

Zenigata was hesitant. So was Lupin. Breaking down a decade of secrecy and animosity didn’t happen overnight. 

 

_“What about the disguises?”_

_Zenigata scoffed. “What about them? They range from flawless mimics of human art, to what you have on now: a pair of glasses. And sometimes those damn glasses didn’t even have lenses in them!”_

_“Hey, they both fooled you!”_

_“Lupin,” Zenigata sighed. “I was pretending not to recognise you. Do you really think I couldn’t identify you in a hat?”_

_Lupin stood back, shocked. “Why-?”_

_“I never showed it but I was damn tired, Lupin. Sleep deprived. Starved. Sometimes I just wanted to sit in my car and eat ramen for a few hours.”_

_Lupin blinked, digesting those words._

_“Oh.”_

 

Over time, the words came to them easier. With every little trick revealed, the layers fell away until they were talking about the last decade of their life as if it was some particularly rousing game of chess that needed to be examined and turned over in their hands. The good plays, the bad plays. The times they settled in a tie. They talked about them all.

 

————————

 

“You are terrible at forging abstract pieces.” Zenigata declared, smacking his lips. The were covered in a thin layer of oil and salt from the potato wedges he was eating. A picture of human contentment. The fact Zenigata’s mood could be so easily swayed with food both amusing and terrifying. 

“Hey!” Lupin chided as he placed a finger down on the plate between them and dragged it over - a wordless reminder that they’d bought this plate to share. He delicately took one, placing it in his mouth and biting down. They _were_ good. Crunchy on the outside, but fluffy in the middle. He grabbed another three. “I’m not that bad - I’ve fooled people.”

“You’re just the _worst_ at it _,_ Lupin. You pretend you prefer to mimic the old masters but after the laughably bad Pollock forgery of 93’ you just avoid them like the plague, don’t you? Don’t even try to claim otherwise.”

“Ouch. Perhaps. But please - never mention Pollock. I’d only just forgotten about that one.”

Zenigata let out a snort of joy at Lupin’s miserable expression. “Oh, don’t sulk. Your colour picking is impeccable and more than makes up for it. Like you said; everyone else fell for it. That’s why I always needed to get close to a piece- the texture was always the key with you.”

“Hmm. I began to pick up you liked to get up close to my work.” Lupin gave an impish smile. “Hence why I started putting explosives in all of them.”

Zenigata growled. “I noticed.”

“Wanna know how I made it only explode when you touched it?”

“I always assumed it was cameras-“

“Hah! Nothing that fancy. You’re gonna kick yourself when I tell you.”

Zenigata squared his shoulders. “Well go on, then.”

“What can I say? You’re _hot_ , Pops.”

Zenigata cocked an eyebrow. Judging by the disappointing lack of any blushing, the man had picked up on what Lupin had meant right away. “My temperature... I run hot.” He grit.

“Yep! Your body temperature is always so much higher than the people around you. That was also really useful the times I used infrared; I could see your bod a mile away. But in the case of my works, all I had to do was put in heat sensors and when it detected something above 38 degrees - boom!”

“Good to know.” Was all Zenigata grumbled in reply.

After that Zenigata admitted that despite all the jokes, he really could sniff Lupin out. He had the thief’s scent memorised. A little creepy, but Lupin would have been disappointed by anything less from Inspector Koichi _‘I can see Lupin through walls’_ Zenigata. It came with the territory… In fact, Lupin could do the same. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud. He could always tell what hotel room Pops had slept in or what cop car he inhabited just by the smell. It wasn’t anything fancy or distinct - Pops didn’t smell like vanilla spice or some fancy brand of cigarettes, just sweat and human musk. 

Well, it was Lupin’s turn again. He played with the dwindling plate of potato chunks.

“You know when you first popped up all of those years ago, I asked Jigen to take you out. You made me nervous with those big, unflinching eyes.”

Zenigata stared at Lupin. It felt like a bullet had gone off in the room and Lupin realised that what he had just admitted was far too heavy for their little sleepover truth session. Zenigata’s expression was guarded. “What stopped you?” 

“Nothing, actually. Jigen told me to think about it a bit more; get a feel for you first. I just forgot after a while I’d even asked him to kill you.”

“Well. I’m glad you forgot.” Zenigata replied dryly.

“Me too.” Lupin said. “I think that would have been the biggest mistake of my life. I mean it, you’re too good to me. To Jigen and Goemon, too.”

Zenigata just nodded. The motion was stiff; it was clear his thoughts were preoccupied once more. Probably with the idea Lupin would have happily killed him at some point. _Boy_ , he’d really fucked up this conversation hadn’t he? Why’d he even bring it up?

“You know,” Zenigata started, “When I was first assigned to your case I was told to apprehend you by any means necessary… dead or alive. I wanted to do the best I could. I must have sat at your bedside for a good five hours one night, Lupin. My gun was trained on you the whole time as you slept. I tried so hard to pull the trigger but I just couldn’t.”

Lupin felt dread slowly rake down his spine. _Oh_. So that’s why Zenigata’s expression had become so grim. He had no clue Pops had ever done that. Had Lupin really been that close to dying? And he never knew?

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.” Lupin joked, slipping on a mask of nonchalance. “I was a little shit in my younger years. You probably would have made a lot of people happy.”

Zenigata vehemently shook his head, disgusted by the mere thought. 

“No. Never. You’re a good man Lupin. Even back then I knew if I had killed you it would have been because some pencil pushing prick in ICPO wanted to look good on the international stage, not because you actually deserved it. Even from the start, I always promised myself I’d fight for what’s right, not what would bolster some assholes political career.”

With his speech finished, Zenigata then lent towards Lupin. 

“O-oh?” Lupin mumbled as the man reached into his personal space. Was he going in for a hug? It didn’t seem the right time now… usually their embraces were a little more in-the-moment and laden with tears. Lupin observed as the man extended an arm out and reached for something past him. After what felt like an eternity, his hand retracted holding a crumpled leaf. It must have fallen on Lupin during the walk over.

“Oh. Thanks.” 

“Hmm.”

Lupin could only watch as Zenigata resumed feeding his face in silence. He certainly had no response to anything that had just been said. A snarky joke or two sat in his brain, but he figured those weren’t wanted at this time. When Zenigata finished his mouthful, he started on another. Then another. It was becoming clear to Lupin the conversation was over.

Lupin guessed it was back to the plans. Shaking the uncomfortable wisps from his mind, he turned back to his map. The new information had been invaluable and he soon got lost in the pen strokes. A door widened here - a new hatch over there. 

 

\----------

 

The night before the gala ball, Lupin sent off his calling card.

It was a strange dilemma, planning what to put on that tiny piece of paper. Something he would usually scrawl in a few seconds was now a monumental task. So much had changed. Did he address it to Tamare? Had he earned that honor yet? Should he stick to his usual gloating tone, or perhaps throw a line in there for Pops? This was his debut, after all.

Eventually he gave up, scribbling down the first thing that came to his head.

 

 _Hello,_ ~~_Inspec_ ~~ _Monsieur Tamare! I will be crashing the Dubai Gala charity Ball on the 19th to steal the yellow diamond -_

_as well as all the other jewels and money they're laundering! I hope you’re ready for your first real case._

 

_PS: Do try and keep up. I hate having to indoctrinate rookie cops._

_Kind regards,_

_Lupin III_

 

Along with the note, he left money - _zeni_. A small nod to their latest member. Lupin thought he was being clever. The five yen coin fit perfectly over the bean shaped caricature of his own face. 

He quite liked the look of their two emblems intertwined.


	8. Chapter 8

Tamare monitored the hallway, his arms held in a stiff cradle behind his back as he did so. With a curt nod, the Inspector stepped out of the way for two officers- one a local while the other was his own _-_ letting them pass. Once alone in the cavernous hallway once more, his eyes did another sweep of the lavish architecture for what felt like the millionth time.

It certainly was a lot to take in. It looked far bigger in person. The grand scale of it all hadn’t been felt from his tiny monitor hitched to the dash of his cop car. The venue truly was designed to rope in the rich (and by extension, the corrupt).

It was in line with Lupin’s philosophy of who he thought ’deserved’ to be stolen from… or so the grainy, past Zenigata had informed him.

Tamare had been occupying himself lately by watching old interviews and clips of the Inspector in his prime  - it was growingly important to have a profile of Zenigata and his motives as much it was Lupin. From a radio interview in America, the cop had grumbled to the press that pursuing an international thief meant he was “well-travelled in a not enjoyable way”. 

Tamare, although first taken aback only by how much the man’s English had improved, was now beginning to understand the message he had been trying to convey.

Lupin had sent a note to the ICPO detailing the location of his next heist. Suddenly, Tamare was in Dubai. Just like that.

And Zenigata had been right; it wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it’d be.

That was likely the very reason why Lupin did it. You never found the thief, you were simply summoned. Mocked and jeered to at least _try_ and keep up. Dragged around from continent to continent like a plaything.

Another group of cops with plastic-wrapped valuables in tow walked past. There were many things to tag and take back to the safe that lay in the basement of the lavish building  - and even more things to photograph. The manor was buzzing with the sound of clicking cameras and idle chit-chat of his officers. 

Entering the ballroom, Tamare gazed over three officers who were like frenzied paparazzi, snapping photos of a large painting from every angle. Once satisfied, they moved to the next.

The thought brought Tamare back to a few days ago, at the Lupin gang's old hideout in France.

A similar photography spree had been needed to catalogue the mansion. Once his drone had suddenly gone offline, he knew it only could have been human intervention. Something had gone wrong.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight when he had raided the building.

 _Everything_ had been abandoned. The TV had been found on, chipperly advertising hair removal cream to an empty living room. Groceries still sat in bags, perched on the marble kitchen bench. Droplets of condensation still sat on a cold container of milk - signalling it had been bought less than fifteen minutes ago.  It was a capsule of counterfeit domesticity, clearly burst sooner than the criminals had hoped.

They’d left in a rush. He had a sneaking suspicion who had caused such a frenzy.

It sat like a rock of dread in Tamare’s gut - the possibility that he’d gotten to the downtrodden cop too late and he was throwing his whole legacy away. Lupin always did possess this strange pull for the Inspector. From the interviews alone, his admiration was clear as day. Even more, as he watched Zenigata live with these men through a lens their bond became clear. How easily that passion could be manipulated into something uglier. Tamare felt foolish for ever thinking leaving him alone with the Lupin gang was a good idea. Who knew what kind of things Lupin had been whispering into Zenigata’s ear about the ICPO?

He needed to put an end to this game Zenigata was playing before it got out of hand. And more importantly, _separate_ him from Lupin. 

Tamare sighed.

It had all happened so fast. The burn still ached dully in his legs a whole day later from sprinting to the hideout on foot. He had been staying in a nearby farmhouse, keeping tabs. He was on a case after all - one he took very seriously. While Lupin was under surveillance, he could justify spending his nights researching Zenigata’s growing web of enemies. And what a web it was; he felt like he’d barely skimmed the surface. Zenigata had made many foes in his time as an ICPO inspector. That was rather obvious. But the more Tamare poked around, the more he realised Zenigata’s paranoia had been warranted.

Interpol had indeed framed him.

The ICPO had been doing a lot of… unsavoury things as of late.

Tamare’s grief had long made way for anger. He’d never seen a case documented so clumsily. The ‘evidence’ that Zenigata had killed his superior was forged - plain and simple. 

Tamare was ready to tell Zenigata of his findings, but he had a growing suspicion the other had become too caught up in his new lifestyle. Zenigata had fled. With them. _Again_. It was a disturbing realisation: the possibility Zenigata was rejecting his help.

Dipping a hand into his jacket, Tamare found himself reaching for Lupin’s note once more. Money had been left along with it, which Tamare could only think with his minimal knowledge was a nod to Zenigata’s heritage. His great ancestor, Zenigata Heiji, threw coins at criminals.

Whether Lupin was mocking him or this was a nod to something more concerning, Tamare wasn’t sure.

Either way, the Inspector had a hunch that Zenigata would make an appearance alongside Lupin. He wished he still had some contact with Zenigata, but the man had cut him loose. Had no longer been replying to his texts. Whether that was because he had no means to access his phone or something more nefarious, he didn’t know. He hadn’t called him, out of fear it might put the other in danger if their collusion was found out.

Tamare felt a frown settle on his face. 

But now? He would have to deploy harsher methods - Zenigata was on a path that was snowballing out of control.

He shoved the note back into his jacket.

_I won’t let you do this to yourself, Sir._

_By any means necessary, this must stop._

 

\---------

 

Zenigata was intimate with Lupin's planning process. He knew his mind and the way he worked.

Well, in _theory_.

_“-then you’ll walk around the front and cause a distraction. That will give time for me and Fujiko to sneak in with our equipment-”_

As an ICPO Inspector, he’d always bore witness mostly to the aftermath: old maps and notes left sprawled around long-deserted hideouts. Or maybe a fleeting snapshot of the criminals plotting before he broke down the front door and poured into their living room with his men. Every time the gang would all scatter into the cracks like cockroaches, escaping with frustrating ease. 

_“-and that’s the plan! Any questions? No? Maybe? Pops? You haven’t said anything yet-”_

Then, of course, there was the heist itself. Zenigata would always show up for it, despite all the roadblocks Lupin would shoot, throw and inflate in his path.

_“Zeni? You there?”_

Those moments were all Zenigata had ever expected to see. He never thought he’d be amongst them as a welcomed observer. 

No, not just an observer. 

_As one of them._

“HEY!”

Zenigata flinched. _Goddamnit_ . Lupin had screamed _directly_ into his ear. He cursed as he balanced desperately on his now teetering chair while trying to throw a glare at the younger man. 

“WHAT!” Zenigata barked back. “The fuck do you want?!”

“You weren’t listening.” Lupin pouted, leaning over the table to stare him down. “And I’m not paying you to look pretty.”

Zenigata blinked, his anger dissolving.

He was getting paid?

_Wait._

_… Did Lupin just say he looked pretty?_

A bead of sweat crept its way under his collar. Zenigata’s fingers flew up to loosen the cherry red bowtie wrapped around his neck. It was a back tie event, so he had been forced to dress up - he needed to blend in with the other guests. Lupin had shoved him in some dangerously starched navy suit with sharp, perfectly tailored edges. It likely didn't even need him to inhabit it, the suit could probably amble off and live its own life it was so starched. 

“I _was_ listening.” Zenigata pettily shot back, smoothing a hand over his lapel.

“Uh-huh.” Lupin drawled, unconvinced. “Sure thing, big guy.”

“So, where will I fit into this?”Jigen butt in, leaning over the table - as well as where Zenigata was seated. He could feel Jigen’s body heat seep into his shoulder as the gunman lent over to inspect the map. The thought entered Zenigata’s head to reach into the other’s jacket and help himself to a cigarette. God did he need one right now. He knew where they were kept. 

“You’ll be here.” Lupin tapped his finger on the blue outline of a building. “I need you to give the signal when the ICPO’s back up show up. Goemon will be with you, but you two will split when it’s escape time - his skills will be needed to stop the cop cars from following us.”

“Got it.”

A nod from Goemon was the only signal he’d heard. He didn’t even open his eyes.

“So that leaves us.” Fujiko purred, standing from her seat and circling an arm around Lupin’s shoulders. He melted under her touch and Zenigata found his eyes falling back to the map in front of him when they entwined. He already felt woozy with nerves. Zenigata didn’t need to be accosted by the sight of _that_. 

He heard a scoff of disgust drift from behind him. Apparently, Jigen had no interest in the display of affection either.

Lupin let out a heady giggle. Fujiko made a noise of delight. 

Only once they parted did Zenigata feel it was safe to raise his head.

“Oh, I can’t wait!” Fujiko mused with a blissful sigh. “I haven’t been to an event like this in months _._ ”

“Remember, we’re there on business.” Lupin chided, waggling a finger as he returned to the map.

“Strange.” The woman quipped back playfully. “I’m usually saying that to _you_.”

The chatter dragged on and Zenigata kept one ear open out of courtesy. Though nothing about the heist was being talked about - it was now more discussion of the guests themselves. Their heritage; who they knew.

Right now his family tree only brought him shame. What would they think of all of this? His fall from grace? 

Nothing he wanted to hear, that much he knew.

When Goemon slipped out of the room, Zenigata started to debate his own departure. They still had a handful of hours until they were to set out - he should probably prepare. Speaking of preparations; he still needed that smoke. _Badly_. If he got paid enough from this job to buy a pack of his own, he’d be ecstatic.

His eyes drifted back to the gunman. As if summoned into motion by Zenigata’s eyes landing on him, Jigen stood up.  Zenigata felt caught out - he could see Jigen’s eyes clearly from this angle as he rose and they were staring right at him. Had the other noticed his glances?

“Well, I’m going for a smoke,” Jigen announced. His eyes never left Zenigata’s. “...You comin’, old man?”

_Well, that answered that question._

 

\-------------

 

The night air was pleasant. Far cooler than what he’d grown accustomed to over the past few days. It put energy in Zenigata’s bones as he stepped out of the fiat. He was sure it would do the others good too. Jigen had refused to give up his black suit, grumbling that the weather could shove it.

_Well, now you don’t have to you stubborn bastard. The weather changed just for you._

Zenigata turned to voice his thoughts to the gunman, only to see he was no longer there. Jigen had already made his way halfway across the street, slinking into the shadowy night with Goemon. Wordless and well-practised; everyone was slotting into position for the job.

The reality of it all felt like a brick jammed sideways in Zenigata’s throat. This was really happening. _He was really doing this._

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. “ _Jesus-_ ”

“Not quite.” Lupin snickered, letting his hand slide down the slope of Zenigata’s shoulder, where he plucked a piece of lint away. “But hey, If you think the shoe fits-”

Zenigata could only roll his eyes. At the remark - and Lupin’s childish excitement. His face beamed with a giddiness Zenigata wished he shared. Nevertheless, he felt reassured just being in the presence of it. If Lupin was this upbeat he clearly didn’t think the night was going to dissolve into a complete disaster. 

“So-” Lupin smacked his lips before offering a smile. Wide. _Ecstatic_. “You ready?” 

 _Absolutely goddamn not._ Zenigata thought to himself. _Not even a tiny bit._

But that was the dilemma, wasn’t it? Would he ever be? He was so sick of waiting in this aimless limbo - a never-ending transition period. The past month he’d been suspended in a deprivation tank crafted out of alcohol and the cream white walls of various hotel rooms and hideouts. If he didn’t find a purpose soon he’d go mad.

Zenigata swallowed down his doubt. It was of no use to him anymore. 

“I am.”

Lupin glowed impossibly brighter at the words. The thief's hands flew to Zenigata’s upper arms, holding him in place with gently cupped fingers on each side. The laughter that bubbled from him stoked the flames in Zenigata’s heart. 

“This is crazy,” Lupin admitted, a lopsided grin enveloping his face. It made him look youthful in a way that cast doubt in Zenigata’s mind over Lupin’s true age - or if he even _could_ age. “Absolute lunacy.”

“You better mean that in a good way,” Zenigata mumbled back. The thief looked transcendent. Like if Zenigata stuck by his side he too could stay like this forever, transfixed in time. Now that was a limbo he wouldn’t mind staying in. 

He’d enjoy that.

“Aww, you know me. Everything I do is crazy in the best possible way. I _assure_ you this will be no exception.”

Zenigata couldn’t help himself; a smile found its way onto his face. _Goddammit_. He wouldn’t allow himself to completely be swallowed up by Lupin’s smooth words; he wasn’t that young or naive. But hope did bubble under the surface. Maybe the grass had always been greener on the other side? All those nights he’d spent nodding off in a wobbly office chair, paperwork making for an unforgiving pillow under his head - he’d catch himself wondering if Lupin was sleeping somewhere _plush_ and _wonderful_ and maybe - _just maybe_ \- it would be nicer if he was there too.

When Lupin finally turned to leave, he did so by dipping low with a mock bow. “Now good Sir! We must depart.” In his crisp three-piece suit, the parody of a dandy gentleman seemed far too sincere. Perhaps it was the blood of the great Arsene Lupin managing to peek through the primate DNA, making the man only appear dapper.

Or maybe Zenigata just thought Lupin looked handsome in a waistcoat. 

The thief walked over to Fujiko and they linked arms. As the two set off Lupin spun around to give him a final wave. “Break a leg out there, Pops!” 

Zenigata grunted his goodbye as he watched the two saunter out of sight. Once gone, he let out a steady breath. He needed to focus.

He had a job to do.

 

\----------------

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON’T LET ME IN?!”

“-Sir, _please_.” The doorman pled, holding his hands up. Half to placate, half in fear that the furious Asian man shouting at him might start throwing punches. “Calm down, I’ll-”

Zenigata’s fists flew up to the sky, cutting the man’s sentence short as he flinched away from the swinging projectiles _. “_ YOU’LL DO NOTHING BUT ALLOW ME THROUGH THIS DOOR, YOU HEAR BOY? _”_

The doorman let out a nervous stutter as his mouth tried to form words. _“Well, u-uh, Sir-”_

“-I bought my ticket fair and square!” Zenigata growled. “With my hard-earned money!”

He hadn’t. 

The ticket was a bootleg - that was the whole point. An obvious forgery that had pained Lupin to so badly mimic. Zenigata’s persona was of an upper-class tourist who had bought a fake ticket from a scalper. And, of course, he was _pissed_ about it. _A role you were born to play Pops_ , Lupin had told him with a smile. _Just shout the walls down and keep em’ busy._

It didn’t matter how it was achieved, but Zenigata was the distraction. He just had to get security over his way so they weren’t concerned about Lupin or Fujiko slipping through the back vent. 

Taking a step closer, Zenigata pushed a finger into the other man’s chest. “Let me in or I’ll have you fired on the spot!”

“ _Sir-_ ” The second man piped up. This doorman was older, stockier, and his English sounded far more practised as it rolled off his tongue. “This ticket isn’t genuine. I’m sorry; I understand your frustration but-”

The paper was calmly plucked from his hands as the larger man inspected it.

“-maybe we can call the police? I’m sure they can help you.”

Zenigata had to hold back a bark of laughter _. The police would show up soon enough - no phone call needed._

Nevertheless, Zenigata felt a pang of guilt. These men really were doing everything in their power to try and de-escalate the situation. 

Shame it was the opposite of what was needed right now. He was supposed to be proving that Lupin letting him into the group was a good decision. A founded choice. He was hardly doing that while he was wasting precious minutes fussing with these men.

“If you won’t let me in-” Zenigata warned, squaring his shoulders and bending his knees ever so slightly. Like an athlete poised at the starting line. _Keep the centre of gravity low - makes it easier on the joints_. “- Then I’ll have to _force my way in._ ”

The two had no chance to react before Zenigata barged through them and barrelled into the gold lit hallway. Stumbling to a stop, Zenigata turned away from the startled patrons glued against the walls of the ballroom and set his attention back on the men. It was just in time to see the smaller one getting up from his position on the floor and ripping the walky-talky out of his belt with quick hands.

“W-we need more security here! _Now_!”

“Listen-” The larger guard warned. “Stop. You don’t want to do this-”

 _Like hell._ Zenigata thought with a snarl. He wasn’t done yet.

Lupin had told him to attract the attention of _every_ guard in this place, not just a dozen or so.

Zenigata began to uncoil the rope around his stomach and fed it through his hands. The handcuffs tied to the end clattered at his feet. Lazy and with a lasso-like motion, he swung the restraints over his head. The weight felt comfortable in his hands. The familiar motion gave him confidence. He’d _missed_ this.

Screw making small waves - he knew what he had to do to.

A smile reached his lips.

_It would be just like rounding up cattle._

 

\------------

 

When Lupin emerged from the ventilation duct, the area had been blissfully empty. Fujiko shuffled out behind him and he took the opportunity to pull out a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and put them on. The dark-rimmed frames, along with his stubble and slicked back blonde hair were enough to throw anyone off his scent.

When he and Fujiko had then snuck out into the hallway, they had been met with the same silence.

“Well, it seems Koichi got something right.” The woman mused as she straightened out her dress. “I haven't seen a single security guard this entire time.”

Lupin beamed, throwing an assured look over his shoulder. “I knew Pops wouldn’t let us down! He’s gonna be our ace in the hole, just you watch.”

An unconvinced ‘uh-huh’ was his only reply as Fujiko made her way around the corner and into the dining hall. A grand display of carefully laid out ice sculptures and showy, gold-coated centrepieces glimmering on each table greeted them. About fifty or so guests puttered around the large room, chatting either at their tables or in large standing clusters.

Seamlessly blending in amongst the crowd, Lupin accepted a flute of white wine from a waiters tray and slipped himself into the nearest social circle. He opened his mouth to introduce himself, but stopped when he saw who was standing across from him.

It was Inspector Tamare.

That shouldn't have come as a surprise; Lupin had explicitly told the other he’d rob this venue blind at this exact date. 

So here Tamare was, keeping up decorum in his modest tux. The suit was a little loose around the shoulders and hips, indicating it was likely a rental. Lupin couldn’t help but feel amusement at the idea. Pops had thrown any good taste out the window decades ago (that was if he even had it in the first place) storming into anything from sewer systems to five-star restaurants in that same ratty trench coat. 

Lupin appreciated the effort. Mirthfully, he then wondered how long it would take for Tamare to discard such frivolous touches.

An indifferent, polite stare greeted him when he met Tamare’s eyes. It told Lupin he hadn’t been recognised, which let him relax a little. Tamare, realising he was staring, even flashed him a tight smile. Lupin returned it. _How nice._

“Oh! How could I be so rude?” A portly man beside Lupin with greying hair bemoaned, pausing his elaborate anecdote that Lupin hadn’t been paying attention to even a little. “I’m here chatting away and someone is over here waiting for me to shut up!”

There was some polite laughter as all eyes settled on Lupin.

“No, please continue! I have a feeling I arrived just in time for the good bit~” Lupin playfully replied, a french accent weaving its way through his words. He pretended not to notice Tamare perk up at the sound of one of his own. “But the name is - uh. Mr Allaire. Paul Allaire.”

“Well, Mr Allaire! Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The stout man beamed. “And I dare say you’re right! You see just after I travelled through the riviera, there was a man that approached me and said-”

Lupin tuned out and focused his attention back to the Inspector. Tamare was listening listlessly, while occasionally breaking his gaze to search around the room. Still on alert. _On duty._

Taking a sip of the sauvignon blanc nestled in his hand, Lupin hid his smirk behind the rim.

 

\--------------

 

Jigen removed the bullet clamped between his teeth, slipping it carefully into his gun. The job had been quiet so far but he knew from experience that could change at any time. Especially with fresh blood in the mix- 

Raising his head slowly from his pistol, Jigen remembered the task Lupin had given him. _Keep an eye on Zenigata._

“ _Shit-_ ” Jigen closed his pistol with a flick of his hand. He pivoted to Goemon, who was on lookout duty. “Hey, can you check how the old man’s holdin’ up?”

Goemon lifted the binoculars, pointing them across the road. There was a pregnant pause as Goemon scanned the scene for Zenigata. Jigen frowned. It seemed the old bastard was no longer at the front entrance if he was taking this long to find. Had something gone wrong? Just as Jigen was about to voice his concern, Goemon lowered the binoculars.

“He is inside.”

Jigen pulled a face. 

“Huh, already? Did they let him in?” Jigen turned back to the building but could see nothing but tiny specks with the naked eye. “Or did he use some of that old fashioned cop persuasion?”

The binoculars returned to Goemon's eyes like the samurai himself wasn’t sure. “It appears to be more than persuasion.” Another pause. “He has most of the guards tied up. There is still some outside, but they are not making any attempts to enter the building- it is likely they do not want to endanger their colleagues.”

“Shit.” Jigen cursed. “And the guests?”

“Backed into the far corner. They are… indignant but unharmed”

Jigen let out a breath. Pops had taken his role a little too damn seriously. He was only meant to be the distraction, not attempt to hold a room of ten dozen people hostage. “-give me those. Let me look.”

Jigen walked over to the building ledge that Goemon was sitting on. Plucking the binoculars from the samurai’s hands, he held them up and peered through. Once angled at the entrance, Zenigata came into view. He was awkwardly half hunched over a mass of tied up guards and shouting something to the remaining security that stood hesitant at the front entrance. Jigen watched as two guards - a man and a woman - finally plucked up the courage to charge in. It only lasted for a heartbeat before Zenigata managed to untie his handcuffs from the rope and hurl them at the man’s legs. He crumpled, dropping his weapon - a gun.

Jigen frowned. These guards were packing heat? He hadn’t been aware of that. It must have only been a select few, there’d been no weapons on entrance security.

Thankfully the second guard then stumbled back, all confidence vanishing now she was alone on her little conquest. Jigen felt a spike of panic nevertheless. The female guard’s pistol was still raised, albeit shakily. If anyone had the misluck to get a bullet between the eyes on his very first job, it would be Koichi Zenigata.

“This is ridiculous. The fuck is he even doing?” Jigen shook his head, “I gotta call Lupin-” Tapping at his earpiece, Jigen heard it crackle to life. “Lupin? Are you there?”

There was some rustling of fabric. The shrill tenor of a woman - _Fujiko’s_ voice. More rustling. A thud. Then finally, Lupin’s shaky laughter.

_“Uh, hey Jigen! How’s everything going?”_

“I think you know exactly how it’s going,” Jigen sighed. “Pops is doing what he does best - taking it too far. He has everyone in the ballroom under arrest. Even worse; some of the guards are packing heat.”

_“Ah.”_

“...Ah?”

_“I was wondering why the staff looked so tense. Obviously they don’t want panic to spread - the people in the west wing are still drinking their aperitifs like nothing is wrong.”_

The distinct sound of a wine glass clinking against a surface entered the earpiece. Jigen felt a spark of anger.

“Lupin! This is no goddamn time to be fine dining!” Jigen hissed. “The old man is gonna get himself hurt! He can’t wrangle a room full of people like that forever.”

Lupin smacked his lips in thought _. “...  I guess the last thing you want to hear is Tamare is currently heading for the ballroom too?”_

“For fucks sake-” Jigen hissed. “Why didn’t you stop him?!”

 _“What do you think me and Fuji-cakes were attempting to do before you called? We’ve gotta stay in disguise! I can’t just drop kick a cop right now!”_ Lupin sighed, _“Look, just go down there and give Pops a helping hand. While you’re at it, nab all the money and jewellery from the patrons. I’ll get Fujiko to slow Tamare down and sweep this end while I slip off to the safe. I’ll grab that yellow diamond. We can meet up outside; hopefully before more cops arrive.”_

Jigen sighed. “That wasn’t the plan.”

_“Oh, c’mon. The plan is a pipedream. A fantasy! Since when do any of our heists go smoothly? That’s why we got plans B through Z to fall back on. You can’t blame Pops for that.”_

With a grumble, Jigen lowered his hand from the earpiece. He was done talking to Lupin. His rose-tinted view of Zenigata was beginning to sound far too similar to the spiel he’d give in Fujiko’s defence. It rubbed him in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“That didn’t sound like anything promising,” Goemon spoke up, rising from his spot on the floor.

Jigen looked towards the building, giving it one parting glance. “Cause it wasn’t. This secret mission became a helluva lot more overt. We’re needed on the ground.”

“I thought as much.” 

Goemon soon vanished off the edge of the building. Unable to pull off a feat even close to that with his protesting middle-aged joints, Jigen instead packed up his sniper rifle and made his way down the stairs. 

 

\----------

 

Jigen’s call had been a cue for Lupin to slip into action if he’d ever heard one - although all he’d secretly wanted to do was wriggle his way against the grain of patrons and catch a glimpse of Zenigata in the next room. Lupin should’ve been mad, stressed even. Wary that Zenigata had seemed to go off and do his own thing the minute he was out of his sight. 

Slipping into the backroom, the thief slunk over to the large metal safe built into the far wall. 

But he felt nothing like that. Mostly because he knew the man. He had for a long time; enough to have a sneaking suspicion Pops was trying to prove his worth. And Zenigata did that the only way he knew how: as a one-man show and all at once.

Lupin continued twisting the dial in front of him with the tiniest increments his wrist could manage. All his attention needed to be on the mechanism and the gentle clicks it was emitting. 

Lupin had planned to watch Pops take his first dip into crime with his own eyes. He’d been ecstatic for it.

But he was here and Zenigata was over there. 

He’d missed it.

It stung more than it had any right to.

 _“C’mon... “_ Lupin whined, pressing his ear closer to the steel slab. He was close to cracking it; he could feel it. _“Stupid safe.._ . _Just… almost._ ”

With a click the safe split open, revealing the gem nestled inside, along with a few carefully wrapped artifacts and sculptures. On a better day, they might have enticed Lupin. What _did_ attract his attention however were the twelve paintings stacked off to one side. Lupin raised an eyebrow. Just from a glance, many were in poor condition - but unlike the ones that lined the halls upstairs, they were the real deal.

_Huh. so that’s what happened to them._

Lupin made a noise of mourning, flipping through the million-dollar masterpieces as he tried to see if any were worth stealing. He always had a soft spot for paintings. It seemed someone else, however, had _not_ . One canvas had a distinct red wine stain and the story of their demise became a little clearer. _Rich assholes emboldened by alcohol: a tale as old as time_. There were one or two that looked salvageable and Lupin slotted them under his arm.

Hand flying up to his earpiece, Lupin tapped it on.

“Jigen! Oi, Jigen!”

A click on the other side told Lupin he’d gotten through, but there was no voice on the other end.

“Hey! I have the yellow diamond.” Lupin pushed, tucking the gemstone into his coat and turning to the door. “You done over there?”

Silence.

“Jigen? Bud?”

_Wrong._

_Something had gone wrong._

 

\-----------

 

Pandamonium would have been a far too kind of a word to describe what was going down in that ballroom when Lupin entered it. 

If Lupin had held dreams of evading the police this time, they were thoroughly dashed. Fifty or more ICPO officers were struggling and pulsing like a single living entity as a war raged in the centre of the room. Guests seemed just as riled up, pushing back against the officers, red faces demanding to be let go at once. 

Tamare had realised Lupin was in disguise and now he was preventing guests from leaving. A smart move in theory, but ultimately misguided. These folks had just been held at gunpoint and robbed blind - telling these sheltered elites the word ‘no’ now would create a whole new problem.

All Lupin could hear was the sound of shouting and scuffling feet - he couldn’t scream above the chaos even if he tried. As his eyes desperately drunk in the busy scene trying to find where Jigen, Goemon and Pops were in this disastrous live-action resonance painting, he only barely registered the slim body colliding with his shoulder as someone sprinted out of the room.

“Wha-” The words barley let his mouth as he upright himself and spun to look at the woman shaped blur disappearing down the hall. Wrapped in all manner of jewels and cash (the latter visibly poking from every available inch of real estate within her dress) it was a familiar sight for Lupin.

Fujiko had taken more than her share and split. _Again_.

“Wait! I- stop!” Lupin shouted after her, fully knowing it was in vain. _“Fuji-cakes!”_

“Sorry Lupin-” The woman hollered back. ”I’m only going to get my hands so dirty! This dress is a vintage Prada! You understand, right?” The woman gleefully offered as she finally vanished down the hall.

Lupin had no time to run after her - his mind was already back on the situation at hand. Goemon seemed to have made quick work of the policemen’s guns at some point, they lay scattered on the floor like black flecks of confetti. Lupin tentatively slunk into the brawl, peeling off his disguise as he did so. It was to his irritation he saw no sight of the samurai himself. Two shots rang out and his head snapped around to see Jigen firing at the chandelier above - likely as a last-ditch attempt to cull down the sheer number of cops swarming him. As the hefty piece of glass fell, the sea of blue uniforms and glimmering gowns parted, scrambling away.

Jigen used it as his chance to race over to Lupin.

“-where’s Fujiko?” The man barked, which made Lupin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Now that was a question he thought he’d never hear from Jigen’s lips.

“ _Gone_.” Lupin tried to shout over the crowd.

Jigen didn’t appear shocked. “Fuck - we gotta get out of here!” he shouted back. “She was holdin’ Tamare back upstairs-”

Not one to argue, Lupin let the gunman take his arm and steer him towards the entrance. 

“W-wait! Where’s Pops? Goemon?” Lupin forced their momentum to a stop, turning around.

“Not a fucking clue,” Jigen shouted back, tugging Lupin back into a sprint. Jigen used his spare hand to pull out his gun and fire several warning shots. “Probably outside!”

With a sigh, Lupin began dragging them towards the stairs.

“Where the fuck are you going-?”

“Call it a hunch!” Lupin called back. “C’mon!”

Squirming around the cops, bullet ricochets and various other close calls, the two men finally managed to wrestle their way up the large spiral staircase and breakthrough to the quieter room a floor above. As they sprinted away from the war still raging below, Lupin noticed about ten or so cops trailing after them - they must have been the ones that’d actually kept up with their motions in the frenzy.

Lupin tossed a smoke bomb over his shoulder as a reward for their efforts.

As the men disappeared behind them, engulfed in the choking green smoke, Lupin looked around. This room was dramatically smaller than the one below it and was cloaked in dark red hues. His eyes settled quickly to the bodies in the middle of the room.

Three, to be exact - two slumped and one standing above them. Tamare grunted as the secured the knots behind Goemon’s back, before lazily looking up. Pops was squirming and cursing behind his gag, writhing at the man’s feet.

Lupin quickly pulled out his gun, raising it at Tamare. The Inspector had the audacity to look completely unfazed. Lupin knew in that moment his sneaking suspicion had been right. How far had Fujiko’s betrayal cut this time? Lupin had a feeling he was about to find out.

“Let them go,” Lupin ordered. He took a step forward. “After all, aren’t I the one you want?”

“Not exactly.” Tamare snapped back. “And I should warn you; if you get any closer? The electric fields I have set up will cut this conversation devastatingly short.”

Lupin bore daggers into Tamare as he slowly walked from the freshly caught duo of criminals and over to Jigen and Lupin. The man was completely open, but deceptively vulnerable. He had a more than just the electric fences set up, Lupin knew. Looks were deceiving. This room was armed to the teeth.

“You have a lot of trust in your gadgets,” Jigen grunted, coming to the same deduction. 

“About as much as you do in that pistol of yours.” Tamare lightly responded. “But whole set up - it’s here for a reason.”

“And that is?” Lupin stepped even closer. He could feel the invisible pulse of electricity on the tip of his nose as he did so. He was only mere inches away from the forcefield.

“I wanted the chance to talk to you. Lupin. Hope to appeal to that good nature Zenigata always insisted was there.” 

Lupin raised an eyebrow, before shrugging. _This should be interesting._  

“Go for it. State your case, _Monsieur Tamare_.”

The Frenchman let out a steady breath, before refocusing on Lupin. His stare was firm. 

“I’m taking Zenigata into custody. _This_ isn’t right. He needs a fair trial in the eyes of the law. He needs redemption! Surely you can see that too?”

Lupin soaked in the man’s words as everything slowly clicked into place. So this is what went down that night Pops was ‘arrested’. Why Zenigata could only speak of the man in a fond, yet forlorn manner.

He wanted to help Pops. 

How utterly _hopeless_. Choice words wanted to tumble out of Lupin’s mouth. Sharp and harsh ones, to lash this Inspector and try and cut away some of his sickening virtue. Lupin swallowed them in the name of good intentions. Tamare wasn’t a bad kid - just grossly idealistic.

Jigen had no such filter, however. He stormed up to the fence, so close the tip of his beard singed. 

“You place the old man in a prison cell, you’re as good as putting a bullet in his head! Do you understand? There are people out there that want him _dead_. And they all work for your goddamn organization.”

“I’m aware of that.” Tamare assured, “I have steps in place-”

“They better be some amazing steps. Some god-like, _impeccable_ steps,” Lupin interjected.

“You know what happened to the last folks that attempted to kill the old man?” Jigen pressed, his gravelly tone dipping even deeper. “They’re not around anymore. I made goddamn sure of that.”

Tamare swallowed, fear and frustration taking turns in flashing across his face.

“I - I _know_ this. But- _argh_!”

The scream that ripped through the air took them all off guard. Lupin then saw the cause: Zenigata had spat out the gag and had wormed his way over to the Inspector. 

He’d then chomped down on his ankle like it was a prime steak. 

“S-sir?” Tamare hissed in pain, hopping away while trying to cradle his injured limb. It seemed by no means an overreaction - the wound was deep and already swelling to a violent red. Pops had been out for blood.

“Do you think maybe I get a say in how my life is goddamn run?!” Zenigata lectured. “Were you ever gonna ask me? Or am I just he blushing bride in this exchange? Huh? Got to get blessings from my parents first?” 

 _The parents?_ Lupin couldn’t help it, he cocked his head over to Jigen. A snort of laugher escaped when he saw Jigen was doing the exact same thing.

“I tried to contact you-” Tamare closed in on the fuming man. He straddled Zenigata as he attempted to tighten the straps that swaddled the other’s body. “But you- _Sir! Stop moving!_ \- you just cut me off!”

“I told you to stay out of it, Tamare!” Zenigata shouted back, tossing the man aside like a bucking bull. Rolling over, Pops managed to upright his body, so he was in a seated position. 

Lupin watched the two men staring at each other from their dishevelled positions on the floor. Silent, but clearly stuck at a crossroad. 

“I want to help.” The inspector pled, so quietly it almost didn’t reach Lupin’s ears. “ _Let me_.”

“You can’t.” Zenigata gruffly replied, face finally shifting into something softer, more pitiful. “And I don’t _want_ you to. It’s too dangerous! A guy like you has his whole career ahead of him. I don’t. My days as an inspector are over - I just have to face that.”

“You can’t stop me from trying.” Tamare challenged. “You’re a criminal. I can take you in. I can go to the ICPO right now and-”

“-I can’t make anyone do _anything._ If there’s one thing I learnt working in the very job you’re in now, it’s damn that.” Zenigata tiredly snapped. “S why I’m asking. Please. Just drop it.”

Tamare ran a hand over his face, before letting out a shaky exhale. 

He then shook his head. Softly, at first. But growing more vehement. 

“No. I won’t - I can’t. You’re the only reason I took this job! Sir, I can’t just abandon you like that.”

Zenigata let out a sound of exhaustion. Lupin could almost pinpoint the moment Zenigata’s face shifted into something more distant. He was tired of the young Inspector nannying him.

“Ain’t that a pity, then.” Zenigata sighed.

Tamare looked up, “... Why?”

“Cause it means I have to do _this-_ ” 

Zenigata lurched forwards, his forehead making a sickening _smack_ as it collided into Tamare’s face. The inspector tumbled backwards, hat toppling off his head as his unconscious form slumped. Zenigata carefully nudged the man into a sitting position (as gently as he could with bound arms and legs, that is) before throwing the man a look of pity.

“Well. That was… a confrontation.” Lupin offered to the stifling silence, pulling out his watch to deactivate the electric fields. They fizzled out and Lupin passed through the threshold, walking over to Pops and helping him out of the bonds. Jigen did the same, tending to Goemon.

Unhooking the ropes from Zenigata’s legs, Lupin could only laugh as the man bucked and cursed, squirming the rest of the way out himself. _So goddamn stubborn._

“C’mon,” Lupin crooned as he helped Zenigata to his feet. “Let's get out of here before Tamare wakes up - or his entourage realises what’s going on.”

“Agreed,” Zenigata grunted.

 

\-------

 

Whether it was adrenaline or just muscle memory Pops - being the first to reach the fiat - slipped into the driver's seat. As the car began to roll with movement and the engine sputtered to life Goemon entered the back silently, not protesting the new arrangement.

Late to reach the tiny car, Lupin meanwhile was left to run beside the vehicle, arms full of paintings and jewels whilst he took in the bizarre scene which was now moving past him faster and faster-

“Hey! Stop!” Lupin shouted. _Definitely muscle memory._

Zenigata’s muffled voice sounded as he shouted something unintelligible from the driver’s side. 

Lupin started jogging to keep up. “What did you say?!”

Zenigata wound the window down. He did not, however, _slow the car at all._

“Well? Get the hell in!” He waved at them with his free hand, half hanging out of the car - a pose that seemed far too practised for Zenigata. “I can’t feel my legs in this fucking car!”

He muttered a final curse to himself as he shifted back into his seat. The car squeaked and moved with him - almost like he was wearing it as a costume. Lupin’s mind emptied, only preoccupied with the resounding thought of _holy shit Pops looks hilarious driving the fiat._ Though not wanting to be shouted at a second time, he tugged open the passenger door and chucked the painting behind the driver’s seat. Lupin then crawled in next to Zenigata. 

“Maybe I need to get the old Mercedes out?” Lupin mused aloud, noting how Pops knees were bumping against the dash. “I don’t want the Fiat’s good name to be slandered like this. You look like you’re driving a clown car.”

“Damn feel like I am too.” Pops bitterly replied.

“Well, that’s why we get the aped of the group to drive it.” Jigen grit, throwing himself into the moving vehicle. “You sure you can even maneuver the pedals with those gangly legs, old man?”

“Course I damn can! I’ll get us where we need to go.” Zenigata huffed in self-assurance, shifting up a gear. 

The car groaned and shuddered. 

Lupin winced. 

Zenigata’s face transitioned to a beet red.

Sympathetically patting the side of his seat Lupin cooed to the machine, as if soothing a bucking horse.

_Hold on, old girl._

 

\------------------

 

True to his word, Zenigata got them there. 

First, to a local liquor store to stock up on some post-successful-heist celebratory booze. 

Then a small supermarket, for basic amenities.

 _Then another_ liquor store, when Lupin sagely decided more alcohol was needed to get four full-grown men blind drunk.

Finally, a gas station was their last stop - they were running low on fuel from all of their errands and Jigen needed some more cigarettes.

The hideout sat on the outskirts of the desert. It was a rundown little hidey-hole that the police would never find in a million years. Well, there was _one_ cop that would have sniffed it out eventually, but lucky for Lupin he was currently by his side, grumbling about the garbage on the radio as he flicked through stations. Zenigata settled on some Jazz and Lupin closed his eyes, pleased the other had picked his favourite. 

Honestly, Lupin couldn’t even remember the last time he hadn’t been the one driving the getaway car. It was nice to be able to unwind a little.

Staring into the inky black of his own eyelids, Lupin knew he’d never actually fall asleep with all the lingering adrenaline in his blood, so took to organising his thoughts instead. 

The heist had not been without its flaws, but overall had gone well. Even more importantly Pops seemed content. Tamare and his tirade had slowed them little, which was all Lupin needed to see to know the truth.  Zenigata may have still been grappling with his new life but Lupin, for the first time in over a month, could finally rest easy.

A smile crept upon his face. It grew when the saxophone solo blaring through the speakers suddenly hushed. Zenigata had turned the radio down - so not to rouse the sleeping man beside him. 


End file.
